


empty spaces between stars

by astudyinrose



Series: empty spaces between stars [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Eventual Smut, Exhibitionism, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of past abuse, Morning Sex, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, You Have Been Warned, sad wanking, the angst tag is there for a reason people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 05:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 198,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10847568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinrose/pseuds/astudyinrose
Summary: Victor gets just as drunk as Yuuri at the Sochi Banquet, and they disappear together after the dance-offs. They wake up the morning after with rings on their fingers, and pictures of them kissing after getting married the night before are all over the tabloids... but neither of them remembers a thing. They decide to stay married for a while for the sake of Victor's sponsorships, and in exchange, Victor coaches Yuuri through nationals...





	1. Hangover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the real world, Russia does not allow same-sex marriage; in fact, the country’s government currently has extremely homophobic policies. Therefore, Yuuri and Victor definitely could not have gotten married Vegas-style one night in Sochi, and the fact that Victor is gay would have been much bigger of a “deal” than it is here. However, I am writing this fic in the universe that Kubo created, and she has stated that homophobia doesn’t exist in their world. So Victor’s “scandals” aren’t because he’s with men, but because he’s just well-known as a playboy. Similarly, Japanese law does not provide for same-sex marriage, but I’m going to pretend that it’s accepted worldwide for the sake of the fic. 
> 
> I added endnote translations of the Russian sentences in the fic. There's a longer conversation in the middle between Yuuri and some Japanese speakers, so I just decided to put that all in italics rather than make you click back and forth over and over.
> 
> Thanks so much to longhornletters for being a kickass beta!!!!

The winter sunlight filtered through the windows, falling on Yuuri’s face. He groaned, pulling the covers over his head, hoping to sleep a little longer. His mouth was parched, and his head was pounding like it did when he’d had too much to drink. Somewhere in the back of his addled brain, he was grateful that whatever had happened the night before, he was back in his own bed.

An unfamiliar ringtone went off. Yuuri felt someone shift next to him in the bed, and his eyes snapped open. He was suddenly wide awake. 

 _What…?_  

Yuuri squinted out at the blurry world, and realized that he was not, in fact, in his dorm in Detroit. Instead, he was in a fancy hotel room—the kind that had floor-to-ceiling windows and minimalist furniture in a vast space, which was somewhat off-putting. There was also a pile of clothes on the floor.

 _Oh god…_  

The unfamiliar phone ringtone went off again, and the person next to him groaned, moving to get out of the bed. Yuuri stayed completely still, his heart hammering against his chest. 

His bedmate stumbled around the bed to the pile of clothes, coming into Yuuri’s blurred sight and starting to pick up items and throw them aside. Even though he couldn’t see perfectly, Yuuri could tell that he had a really beautiful body… and he was completely naked. Yuuri gulped.

Feeling disoriented and a little nauseated, he lifted the covers up. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but he was still wearing his pants and underwear. That was something, at least. Maybe he—they—hadn’t done anything? 

The man let out a cry of triumph and held up what he he had apparently been looking for: the ringing phone.

“Алло,” the man said, answering it. "Яков? Что ты хочешь? Я спал—"[1]

The man paused, as whoever was on the other end of the line started yelling without taking a breath.

"Боже… И что?"[2]

Yuuri felt his heart beating really fast. He didn’t understand whatever the man was saying, but it sounded like he was speaking in Russian. The voice sounded really familiar, but between the pounding in his head and the disorientation of not being able to see, Yuuri couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it before.

The man said something again, then suddenly froze, and very slowly, he looked down at his right hand. 

Yuuri squinted, but he couldn’t see what the man was staring at. Though he was tempted to continue hiding, Yuuri glanced around for his glasses—for some reason, it hadn’t occurred to him to look for them until now—and to his surprise, they were on the nightstand.

"Я не знаю! Я ничего не помню. Правда, у меня ужасное похмелье,"[3] the naked man said.

Another pause. Yuuri tried to see if he was going to turn around or walk into another room, but it didn’t look like he was going to.

"Похоже, он всё ещё здесь, прячется под одеялом. Что мы будем делать?"[4]

Yuuri gave up on trying to hide. He sat up, letting the covers fall back, and reached out to grab his glasses from the nightstand. The movement caught the man’s attention and their eyes met as Yuuri’s vision finally came into focus.

It was Victor Nikiforov.

 _Victor. Fucking. Nikiforov_. Standing there naked as the day he was born.

“I’m going to call you back,” Victor said tersely in English, then hung up the phone and walked quickly over to Yuuri. 

“Yuuri?” 

“Yeah, how do you—” 

“Do you remember anything from last night?” Victor asked quickly. 

“N-no,” Yuuri stuttered, unable to concentrate because _five-time Grand Prix Final champion Victor Nikiforov_ was still standing in front of him, completely naked. “Um. Do you?”

“No,” Victor ran his hand through his messy silver hair, looking exasperated. 

“What is happening? Do you… know how we got here?”

Victor shook his head. “Can I see your hand?” 

“My what?” 

“Your right hand, I need to see it.” 

Shaking slightly, Yuuri stretched out his hand. 

His eyes widened when he saw it: there was a gold ring on his ring finger. Victor swore in Russian under his breath, holding out his own hand next to Yuuri’s. 

Yuuri gasped, and his vision started swimming, because Victor had a matching ring. 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri whispered. “Oh my god, what did we do?”

“Apparently, we got drunk at the Grand Prix Final banquet, left together, and sometime later we got married,” Victor said dryly. He sat down on the bed next to Yuuri. 

Yuuri was still staring at his hand. “But it’s on our right hands, maybe it doesn’t mean—” 

“Here in Russia, we wear wedding rings on our right hands,” Victor interrupted.

Yuuri looked up at him. “How did this happen?” he rasped.

“I don’t know, that was my coach on the phone. Apparently multiple people saw us on the street last night and they took photos. He said they are… erm…” Victor made a vague hand gesture. “Incriminating. He’s sending me some of them.”

“Incriminating,” Yuuri repeated, his mind spinning. 

Victor rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes as his nose turned a little pink. “We were kissing.” 

“ _What_?” Yuuri’s heart was definitely pounding now. He had been photographed kissing Victor Nikiforov? And he didn’t even remember it at all?

Victor’s phone chimed, and he held it out in lieu of an answer. 

Yuuri took it, squinting at the screen. There were two very grainy photos that had obviously been taken at night by someone with their phone. Despite the poor quality, Yuuri could make out Victor’s face over the shoulder of a dark-haired man. Victor was glowing, his smile wide and his lips barely parted, his face framed by the other man’s hands. The second photo was of them kissing passionately. The dark-haired man looked like Yuuri, but he couldn’t tell for sure since his face wasn’t in view.

“You can’t even see my face. How would anyone know it’s me?”

Victor took the phone back, tapping a few times, and showed it to Yuuri again. There was another photo, this time attached to a tabloid article. The clarity of the shot was much higher because they were directly in front of a street lamp, walking along the waterfront, holding hands. Both of their faces were illuminated clearly, and they were wearing the same clothes as in the kissing photo. Victor was laughing, his eyes partly closed and his head tossed back slightly as if he’d just heard the funniest joke of his life. Yuuri was looking up at him, his free hand covering his mouth. Yuuri could clearly see the gold ring on his finger. They both looked incandescently happy.

 

**NIKIFOROV THE HEARTBREAKER OFF THE MARKET?**

 

SOCHI—Late last night, one of the most eligible bachelors on the planet tied the knot, seemingly out of the blue.

At some point around midnight, Victor Nikiforov and a relative unknown, Japanese figure skater Yuuri Katsuki, were seen leaving a Sochi church with matching rings. They were spotted in several locations in the city throughout the evening, kissing passionately out in the open.

Nikiforov had just won his fifth gold medal in the Grand Prix Final only the day before, and he and Katsuki were seen leaving the Grand Prix Banquet earlier that evening. They were widely rumored to have been consuming alcohol at the event, but appeared to be walking normally when these shots were taken.

Nikiforov, who is now a five-time Grand Prix Final gold medalist, and four-time World Champion, is considered to be the best male figure skater in the world, and possibly of all time. He has been involved in multiple romantic scandals over the past few years, including...

 

Yuuri let out his air in a whoosh, handing the phone back and not bothering to read the rest. “This is… insane.” 

Victor sighed, biting his bottom lip. His eyes, which Yuuri had seen a thousand times in pictures and posters, were even more stunningly blue in person, mesmerizingly so. His brow furrowed as if he were trying to figure something out.

“Why did so many people even take photos of us?”

Victor shrugged. “I’m highly recognizable, especially in Russia. We must not have been trying to hide it at all. There’s articles about it being published worldwide, apparently.”

“Oh, god, my parents,” Yuuri squeaked, getting out of bed despite the hammering in his head. Phichit was probably freaking out too, and Celestino. “Where’s my phone? Have you seen it?”

Victor shook his head. Yuuri looked through their clothes on the floor until he finally found his phone, which was completely dead.

“Shit,” Yuuri muttered under his breath. His hands were starting to shake, like they did when he was having an anxiety attack. “Do you have a phone charger?” he managed to ask.

“No, not with me,” Victor said. “This isn’t my hotel room from the Final. We must have checked in last night.” His phone pinged again. “Don’t worry, my publicist is one of the best in the world. She’ll figure out a way to get us out of this. She’s meeting us downstairs in twenty minutes. We can get a phone charger from the concierge." 

Yuuri nodded, clenching his fists to try and stop the shaking. Victor looked down at Yuuri’s hands, and back up at his face, his expression softening slightly. 

“Want some water?” Victor asked, after a moment. “If you feel half as bad as I do, some aspirin would be a good idea too.” 

Yuuri nodded, and Victor got up and headed over to the mini fridge. Victor came back over with two bottles of water and a bottle of aspirin, handing one to Yuuri. Yuuri took it gratefully, downing most of the bottle in one go. He hadn’t realized just how thirsty he was.

Victor drank his entire bottle, throwing it on the bed once it was empty. “I’m going to shower, then you can after. Try not to worry too much, it will be alright.” He hesitated, his hand half-raised as if he wanted to reach out and comfort Yuuri in some way, but then thought better of it. He smiled weakly, and turned to walk over to the bathroom, closing the door. 

Yuuri sat back down on the bed and stared at his dark phone as he heard the shower turn on. There was nothing he could do at the moment, not until his phone was charged. 

Victor came back in a few minutes later, a towel slung around his waist.

“Your turn,” he said distractedly. He went over to the pile of clothes and started sorting through them, not seeming to care that the towel fell off in the process. 

Yuuri didn’t manage to avert his gaze in time, and his eyes alighted once again on Victor’s nude body. He forced himself to meet Victor’s eyes.

“Something on your mind?” Victor asked, pulling what must be his underwear and pants out of the pile.

“Did… er. Did we… um.” Yuuri flushed, gesturing between them, unable to get the words out. 

“I highly doubt it,” Victor said definitively. “I don’t know about your other lovers, but when I’m that drunk, I would not be able to... you know.” He pulled on his underwear. 

 _Other lovers. Right._ Yuuri laughed nervously.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure given our state last night, there would be more evidence on the bed,” Victor said, gesturing over at the sheets. They were rumpled, but there were no fluids, dried or otherwise. 

Yuuri let out a whoosh of air. “Thank god.” Victor’s eyebrows rose. “I—I mean, not ‘thank god,’ just… you know, thank god,” Yuuri stuttered.

Victor looked like he was about to say something else when his phone rang again. He answered it immediately, walking over to the window, speaking in rapid-fire Russian. 

Yuuri stared at him, trying (and failing) not to admire his perfectly sculpted ass, which somehow looked even better in the black boxer-briefs. His _husband’s_ perfectly sculpted ass. 

“This is unreal,” Yuuri murmured.

He got up, holding his head, and went to shower. He couldn’t look at Victor any longer or his head might explode.

 

 

* * *

There was only one woman in the hotel’s restaurant when they arrived downstairs. She had long dark curly hair, and was wearing a bright red leather suit jacket that should have been garish but somehow she was able to pull it off.

When she saw them come in, she waved them over, stamping out her cigarette in the ash tray at the same time. “Vitya,” she said. Her smile was warm but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, which had a tired and worried edge. She stood and kissed Victor on each cheek. “I had them clear out the restaurant. I think it would be best for us to be able to speak in private.”

“Thank you Nadiya,” Victor said. “This is Katsuki Yuuri.”

“I know,” she said, extending a hand. Her eyes were sharp and evaluating when they focused on him. Yuuri shook her hand, avoiding her eyes. He felt like he was being judged, prised apart to see his worth. 

“Let’s sit,” Nadiya said after a moment, releasing Yuuri’s hand. They all sat down, Victor and Yuuri on one side together. Yuuri took a moment to plug in his phone (using the charger he’d gotten at the front desk) under the table.

Nadiya said something in quick Russian to the waiter who started to approach, and the man quickly nodded and retreated. Yuuri frowned, wishing he could have ordered something with caffeine or sugar in it to counteract the pounding in his head.

“I wish you’d called me first,” Nadiya said once the waiter was gone.

“We only woke up half an hour ago,” Victor said defensively. “Yakov chewed my ear off and then you were the first person I texted.”

Nadiya took a long drink of her black coffee. “Well, while you were dozing away, I’ve been trying to do damage control. There’s only so much I can do, however. We can’t hide the public records of your nuptials. And there are photos and eyewitness accounts from a hundred different sources, so we can’t exactly tell them that they’re all photoshopped.” She set her coffee down with a thump, taking a file folder from her expensive-looking black leather purse and handing it to Victor.

Victor opened it with a sigh. There was a copy of their marriage license inside, and more photos of them from the evening before. There was even a photo of them in front of a church, kissing. Again. 

“So… so we really did get married?” Yuuri felt like his voice sounded too loud in the silence of the restaurant. 

Nadiya nodded, her eyes sharp. 

“How do they let people get married when they are obviously too intoxicated to make that decision?” Victor asked.

“It’s not their job to decide whether you are in your right mind to get married,” Nadiya said bluntly.

“So what do we do now? Get it annulled?” Victor asked, handing the file to Yuuri, who started looking at all the photos. He focused on the ones in which Victor was looking at him with… well, love in his eyes. He still couldn’t quite believe that Victor Nikiforov had been looking at him like _that_ only a few hours before. Photo-Yuuri was looking back at him with a similar expression. How is it possible that neither of them remembered it at all? 

“The truth of the matter, Victor,” Nadiya said, looking down at her perfectly polished nails, “is that you have had too many scandals lately. A hasty marriage to someone you just met and a subsequent annulment would look bad for your image. I had a hard enough time convincing several of your sponsors not to pull out after the last incident, you know.”

Victor opened his mouth to protest, but Nadiya simply shook her head sternly, and Victor scowled.

Yuuri knew what Nadiya was talking about; everyone in the world knew. Over the past several years, Victor had had a few public boyfriends, all of them famous and model-gorgeous if not models in fact. All of the relationships had ended in fantastic fashion, the tabloids splashing Victor’s “heartbreak” across their front pages. And that was only the boyfriends.

There were plenty of times when Victor was caught in compromising positions with men. The most recent, Yuuri remembered, was six months ago. Victor had been papped in an alley behind a Dolce and Gabbana runway show, on his knees in front of a nearly-nude male model. His blue eyes appeared startled in the photos and his silvery hair was partially covering his flushed face. Yuuri may or may not have fantasized about the photo, imagining what it would be like to have Victor on his knees in front of him like that.

“We hadn’t actually done anything,” Victor grumbled. “Not yet, anyway.”

“He was practically naked,” Nadiya pointed out.

“That was his runway garment!” Victor protested. “Take it up with Dolce, not me.”

Yuuri couldn’t help snorting with laughter, and Victor glanced at him, his eyes glittering with mirth. 

“Stop it, you two,” Nadiya said, glaring at them.

“I just don’t see how it’s anyone’s business who I hook up with, or marry for that matter.” Victor was starting to sound almost hurt. “I never split up any marriages, cheated on anyone, or did anything illegal. I think the term ‘scandal’ is highly overblown here.” 

Nadiya sighed, long-suffering. “It’s because you’re a world figure, Vitya. The press love to shove your breakups to the forefront of the gossip columns. It’s the ‘Taylor Swift’ effect. The whole world either wants to be you or fuck you, especially the women who know they can’t have you.” 

Yuuri cringed at her crass delivery, but Victor snorted, apparently used to it. At that moment a few waiters arrived with hot coffee and an assortment of breakfast foods, which must have been what Nadiya had said to them earlier. Yuuri took coffee gratefully, but wasn’t sure what else he could stomach at the moment. 

“Try to eat something,” Victor said quietly to him. “You’ll feel better, and you won’t be as miserable on the plane later.”

Yuuri looked up at him, surprised to see the concern in his eyes. He took a croissant and some eggs, and tried to nibble at them. The coffee was already starting to clear his head. 

Once the waiters had left them alone again, Nadiya took a sip of her refreshed coffee. “What I would suggest, in light of all that,” she said, “Is that you stay married. At least for a while.”

“ _What_?” Yuuri shrieked, dropping his fork on the ground. A waiter appeared out of nowhere and gave him a new one, quickly leaving again.

“We imply that you had been dating in secret for a few months, but never say it directly. It will be hard for them to confirm either way, since you live in different countries and it would have been long-distance.”

“We—but—we can’t—I—Victor—” Yuuri sputtered.

Nadiya ignored him, continuing to speak to Victor. “Yuuri would obviously have to remain here in Russia for a while, live with you in the St. Petersburg apartment for appearances, at least until both of your national competitions are over. Luckily, he has his most important skating gear here with him, but I can send someone to Detroit to get more clothes or whatever other things he might need. You only have a couple of weeks until Japanese nationals, so it makes no sense for Yuuri to travel home and back in that time.”

“You know where I live?” Yuuri asked, dumbfounded.

“Yuuri has this month off for winter break,” she continued. “I contacted his professors and they confirmed that he finished his finals early so he could concentrate on the Grand Prix and nationals. We can reevaluate all of this after nationals are over. If we decide to put an end to it then, Yuuri will go back to school, and after a few months you can divorce, stating that it was too hard to reconcile your schedules.”

“How do you… how…” Yuuri sputtered.

Nadiya finally looked at him. “I’m very good at my job.”

“Apparently,” Yuuri said dryly. “But what about Celestino? He’s expecting me to go back to Detroit for training.”

“I haven’t contacted him yet, because I had a feeling you would want to first,” Nadiya said. “However, you can just tell him the same story—you want to stay with your new husband for a while.” 

“He probably won’t believe that the marriage is real, to be honest, but I can try,” Yuuri said, starting to feel sick. Would anyone believe it? It wasn’t exactly like he was on Victor’s level in any way. Victor was gorgeous, and a top figure skater, and Yuuri was neither of those things. Everyone in the world must think this is some kind of colossal joke. He pushed the eggs around his plate for a moment before he looked up at Nadiya. “Can I tell anyone the truth?” 

“No,” Nadiya said immediately.

His heart sank. “Not even my parents?”

“No. They’ll have to believe it’s real, in case reporters come to talk to them.” 

Yuuri’s thoughts turned to Phichit. “Even my best friend?” 

“No,” Nadiya said, at the same time as Victor said, “Yes.” 

“Victor,” Nadiya said, exasperated.

Victor shrugged, taking a bite of something that looked like a crepe. “I’ll have to tell Yakov for it to work, since he knows everything about me. He knows I wasn’t dating anyone for the past few months, even secretly. It’s only fair that Yuuri be able to tell one friend of his as well.” 

Nadiya sighed, looking at Yuuri. “Is your friend trustworthy? This all might fall apart if he decides he wants to sell the story to make some quick bucks.”

“No. I mean, yes, he’s trustworthy.” Yuuri felt the lead in his stomach loosen just a little. “I would trust him with my life.”

“Fine, you can tell him, as long as he keeps the secret.”

Yuuri nodded, looking down again at the now-cold eggs. He put down his fork, no longer feeling hungry. 

“So?” Victor asked, taking his coffee and curling both of his hands around it.

Yuuri thought for a moment. “You don’t know me at all," he said. "How will we pull this off?” 

“I’ll get to know you,” Victor said. “Enough to answer questions in the press anyway.” 

“The press. Right.” _Why else would he want to know me?_

“I know what you’re thinking, Yuuri,” Nadiya said. 

“You do?"

“You want to know what’s in it for you.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I—I’m not… no.” Yuuri flushed, his mind automatically skittering to waking up that morning next to a naked Victor. 

“It just so happens that I have thought of that as well. In exchange for staying married to Victor for now, he will coach you and help you place first at nationals, qualifying for the World Championships.” 

Yuuri stared at her.

“That’s perfect,” Victor said brightly. “She really has thought of everything.”

“I know you probably didn’t notice, but I totally flopped at the Grand Prix Final,” Yuuri said bitterly. “I came in sixth. I might not be able to win nationals.”

Victor waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “You didn’t flop. You missed some jumps, but your step sequences and spins are amazing. I can work with that. I might not be a coach per se, but I’ve been coaching my rink-mates for years, helping them out when Yakov was busy at a competition. I could coach you at the same time I’m training for my own nationals, I’m sure.”

“You saw me skate?” Yuuri blurted out, unable to help himself. “I thought you didn’t know who I was. That night after the free skate, you asked me if I wanted a photo. It seemed like you thought I was just a fan or something...” 

Victor’s eyes darted to Nadiya, who was watching them with her eyes narrowed. “I just thought it might be nice to get a photo with a fellow skater,” he said, taking a big sip of his coffee, before clearing his throat. “But anyway, your scores at the Final don’t show your true potential. I just know it.” 

Yuuri blinked at him, then at Nadiya, whose face had been carefully schooled to look neutral again.

“What else do I have to do?” he asked.

“What else…” Victor repeated, clearly not understanding. 

“I have to live with you in St. Petersburg, in your apartment. What else do I have to do?” 

“You don’t have to sleep in my bed or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. I have a guest room,” Victor said. His nose was just a little bit pink, and Yuuri couldn’t stop looking at it. 

“You’ll just have to be seen publicly together a few times,” Nadiya said. “I’ll arrange some dates. And you’ll have to wear your rings, act like a couple, so on. Unfortunately it’s the middle of the season, so we can’t have you just jet off to an undisclosed location for a ‘honeymoon.’” 

“Do we have to kiss in public?” Yuuri asked. The blush on Victor’s nose increased.

Nadiya shrugged. “No, you don’t have to. The photos of you from last night should be enough for that. Holding hands would help. Russians aren’t usually huge on PDA, so you can get away with very little.”

“Oh. Okay.” Yuuri couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed, even though he knew it would all be for show. The fact that he couldn’t remember all the times he had kissed Victor the night before, especially if it would never happen again, was truly tragic. 

“I won’t touch you in any way that you don’t want,” Victor said. His head was bent slightly, and he was stirring his coffee with a spoon. “Just tell me what’s okay with you and we’ll go from there.” 

“Holding hands is okay.” Yuuri said it with more confidence than he felt.  

Victor nodded, watching him seriously. “What about casual touches? Things couples would do, like an arm over your shoulder?”

“Yeah, that should be fine.” Yuuri tried not to blush when he thought about Victor touching him casually like a husband would do.

“We’ll play it by ear then. But I don't want you to feel uncomfortable in any way.”

Yuuri nodded as he took the coffee pot and poured himself some more, then added milk and sugar. The silence stretched, as both of them waited to see what he’d say. 

“So… you want to do this?” Yuuri managed to ask, finally. 

“It’s not a matter of wanting or not wanting, it’s a practical decision so he can keep his sponsorships,” Nadiya said curtly.

“She has a point,” Victor said, his eyes never leaving Yuuri. “But it’s really up to you. I will weather the scandal of an annulment, if this is too much for you. It’s asking a lot. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being coerced into doing this, no matter how much it might damage me.” 

“But—” Nadiya began to say, but Victor simply put a hand up to stop her.

“It’s your decision, not mine. I’ll do whatever you want, Yuuri.”

Yuuri glanced down at his phone, which had just gained enough charge to come to life. His stomach began to churn. There were dozens of missed calls and texts, but he couldn’t call anyone back until they decided what to do.

It _was_ asking a lot of him. Pretending to be married to someone who had reporters following him everywhere, becoming a worldwide public figure overnight… it was no small thing. Not only that, but he’d be “married” to the man that he’d idolized—and lusted after—for almost a decade. The fact that he would be in close proximity to Victor for the indefinite future under this false pretense would be difficult, to say the least. Not to mention that he’d have to lie to everyone in his life, to the world. Yuuri had never really been a good liar.

But on the other hand, he could have Victor as his coach, and it might help him make a comeback for nationals. He chewed his bottom lip, thinking about how horribly he’d failed at the Grand Prix Finals, and how if he messed up that badly again he wouldn't qualify for Worlds. If that happened, his career was as good as over.

Yuuri met Victor’s eyes. Celestino would be disappointed and confused when Yuuri told him he wasn’t returning to Detroit, but their coach-skater relationship hadn’t been very productive of late anyway. Yuuri had felt increasingly frustrated and his improvement had stalled. He definitely didn’t blame Celestino for that, it felt like as good a time as any to part ways.

In the end, working with Victor would allow him to do something he’d been dreaming about since he was twelve: he’d get to skate with his idol. Not only that, he would get to train with him, practice with him, learn from him one-on-one. Even live with him.

Suddenly, the decision was easy. 

“Okay, I’ll do it.” Yuuri was still watching Victor, and there was a flicker of happiness in Victor’s ocean-blue eyes. Yuuri’s heart fluttered, before he realized that Victor was just glad he wasn’t going to lose millions of dollars in sponsorships.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Victor said, and it sounded heartfelt. 

Yuuri felt overwhelmed, so he ducked his head, nodding. He could see Nadiya visibly relax out of the corner of his eye, and then she was a flurry of action, pulling out an ipad and starting to type furiously. 

“Good. I’ll start with making your travel arrangements to St. Petersburg. We won’t have a press conference yet, not unless you want to. I’ll just have a statement prepared and send it around.”

“Fine,” Victor said, turning back to the food on his plate.

Nadiya was still writing furiously on her ipad, her long nails clicking on the screen. “Yuuri,” she said, “You’ll have to meet with or talk to your coach, and start contacting family and friends in whatever way you see fit. Remember, our story is that you had been dating secretly for a few months, and you decided to elope.”

She stood up, putting her ipad in her purse and switching to her cell phone. “I’ll have a driver pick you both up in a few minutes after you finish your breakfast. You’ll have to go back to your other hotel rooms and pack, your plane is in a few hours. Tomorrow you’ll start training with the Russian team, I’ll talk to Yakov and okay it—” 

“No, I’ll talk to him, it would be better if I explain it all,” Victor said, taking out his phone and starting to text. 

Nadiya nodded. “Fine. I’ll see you both in St. Petersburg.”

“Thanks Nadiya,” Victor said. “You’re the best.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Nadiya said dryly as she walked away, her stilettos clacking on the stone floor.

When they were alone, Victor and Yuuri met each other’s gaze. Yuuri realized he had no idea what to do next.

“You better start with that.” Victor lifted his chin at Yuuri's phone, as if he could read his mind. 

“Right,” Yuuri said, looking down at his phone, which had been buzzing incessantly. He had no idea who to call first, but it should probably be Celestino. They were supposed to be taking a plane back to Detroit that night, which Yuuri was obviously no longer doing. Just as the thought crossed his mind, the phone lit up with a new call from his coach. 

“I better take this,” Yuuri said, holding the phone up so Victor could see. 

Victor nodded, continuing to text. Yuuri wanted to walk somewhere private, but it was still so low in charge that there was no way he could leave the table.

He answered the call. “Ciao ciao.” Yuuri couldn’t keep his voice from quavering slightly.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Celestino said. He sounded relieved rather than angry, as Yuuri had expected. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. I’m having breakfast,” Yuuri said, looking at Victor out of the corner of his eye. He was eating with more gusto than before, his posture relaxed as he texted with one hand.

“Why haven’t you been answering my calls? I was worried sick when you never came back to the hotel. Is it true?” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, but my phone died at some point last night and I didn’t have my charger. Victor and I checked in to a different hotel, that’s why I never came back.” 

Celestino paused. “So it’s true, then. You got married to Victor Nikiforov last night. What were you thinking?” 

It sounded even more ridiculous coming from Celestino’s mouth. “Yes?” he managed to squeak.

“Is that a question?” 

“I mean. Yes. Victor and I got married.” He was going to have to work on his delivery. 

“Why?” 

Yuuri gulped, closing his eyes. Here came the lying part. “We have been dating long distance for a few months.” Yuuri cleared his throat, knowing he would have to elaborate. They should have discussed the details more before he talked to anyone. “Since Skate America. We met when he was there to watch the competition and when I was competing. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d say I should be focusing on my skating.”

Victor’s eyes flicked to look at him in surprise.

“Are you serious?”

Yuuri chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “Yes. We talked this morning, and I decided I’m going to stay here in Russia and train with Victor for a while.”

“You are? Yuuri…”

“Yes, I am.” He tried to sound firm, like the decision was already made. 

“I obviously can’t tell you what to do, but… Yuuri, is this a good idea? I know you were upset about the way the Grand Prix went, but don’t you think this is really rash?”

Yuuri watched Victor, who was now talking on the phone, presumably to Yakov. His silvery hair had fallen into his face, and his long eyelashes were glinting in the morning sunlight.

“I’m sorry coach. We—we are in love.” Victor’s eyes met Yuuri’s again and he smirked. Yuuri cleared his throat. “I might come back to Detroit after the Japanese nationals, but I don’t know for sure. I’m flying to St. Petersburg today with Victor.” 

Celestino paused again, and Yuuri could just picture his expression: disbelief, and confusion. “Alright, Yuuri, you’re an adult. It’s obviously your decision. I hope to see you back in Detroit soon.” 

“Thank you, Celestino. For everything.”

“Yuuri, one more thing?”

“Yes?”

“Just…” Celestino hesitated. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will.”

“Ciao.”

Yuuri hung up, his stomach in knots. He hated lying, especially to his coach. It didn’t come naturally to him at all.

Victor talked for a few more minutes, before he ended the call. “Yakov is not pleased, but he’s willing to let you train with us," he said to Yuuri.

“So he knows the whole story?” 

“It would have been hard to keep it from him, considering he talked to me when we first woke up this morning and I told him I didn’t remember. But Yakov is like another father to me. He’d never tell anyone.” 

“Right.” Yuuri fidgeted, pulling his sleeves down over his hands. 

“You done eating?” Victor asked. “Nadiya already paid the bill. The driver should be here by now.” 

Yuuri nodded. “Yeah, let’s get going.”

Victor stood, and they both went to the front of the hotel to find a sleek black car waiting for them.  

As they walked out the front doors, Victor’s phone rang. He groaned when he saw the Caller ID, opening the car door for Yuuri as he answered. Yuuri slid in, trying not to eavesdrop, but Victor was speaking in rapid Russian again so he couldn’t understand anyway. 

As the car slid away from the hotel, Yuuri looked down at his phone. There were missed calls from Yuuko, Phichit, Mari, Minako, his parents... pretty much everyone he knew. 

He might as well get the call to his parents over with, at least. Especially since he didn’t want to talk to Phichit in front of Victor, as they would have to speak in English. 

She answered immediately. “ _Mom_ ,” he said in Japanese. 

“ _Yuuri, darling_.” His mother’s voice was calming, even from so far away. “ _It’s Yuuri, everyone!_ ” She called out, and Yuuri could hear some noise in the background. “ _The Nishigoris are here, and Minako. I’ve been so worried, your father has too. Why weren’t you answering your phone? Is it true, dear? Did you marry that handsome Russian gentleman_?”

“ _Yes, Mom. I’m sorry you were worried, and that you had to find out that way_.” 

“ _Is that the same young man that you have posters of all over your room_?” 

Yuuri blanched, and Victor glanced over at him. He obviously couldn’t understand their conversation, but Yuuri couldn’t hide his expressions.

“ _Yeah, yeah it’s him_.” 

“ _Well isn’t_ that _something_.”

“ _I don’t have a lot of time, mom, I just wanted to tell you I’m alright, and I’ll come visit you at some point after Japanese nationals. In the meantime, I’m going to St. Petersburg with Victor_.”

“ _Can’t Victor come to visit too? We want to meet him!_ ”

Yuuri glanced over at Victor. “ _Yeah, maybe. I’m not sure if he’ll be able to come considering his nationals are around that time too_.”

“ _Ah, alright dear_.” She sounded a little distant, almost sad.

Yuuri sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “ _I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. About Victor_.”

His mother paused. “ _I just wanted to be there to see you married. You’re my only son. I didn’t even know you were dating anyone. And especially after just losing Vicchan, and how upset you were after the free skate… it’s just been a strange few days. I’m happy if you’re happy_.” 

Yuuri felt like he’d been punched in the gut. It hadn’t even occurred to him that his parents might be hurt that they hadn’t been there. 

“ _I’m so sorry mom. I… we just wanted to elope, because_ …” his mind whirled. “ _We just wanted to get married now, but not have to plan a wedding. Maybe we can have a wedding there later? At the onsen?_ ” Lie upon lie upon lie. At least the lies were coming easier now.

“ _Oh that would be lovely._ ” She sounded happier. “ _Maybe during cherry blossom season! After the World championships, anyway, when you’re not training anymore_.”

There was some chatter in the background.

“ _Yuuko wants to talk to you_.” His mother paused. “ _I love you_.”

“ _Love you too_ ,” Yuuri replied. “ _I’ll call you when I get to St. Petersburg and I’ve settled in a bit_.”

The phone changed hands, and Yuuko’s bright tone made him smile immediately. “ _Moshi moshi!_ ” 

“ _Hey, Yuuko_!” 

“ _Are you freaking kidding me, Yuuri? You actually married_ Victor Nikiforov _? And his publicist just released a statement saying that you had been dating for months? I can’t believe you didn’t tell us_.” Her tone was light, but it betrayed a bit of hurt under the surface. 

Yuuri sighed again. “ _I’m sorry, we wanted to keep it secret._ ” 

“ _Did he know how big of a fan you are_?”

He glanced at Victor across from him, who was looking out the window, still chatting away in Russian. “ _Definitely not_.”

" _So you’re going to St. Petersburg with him_?”

“ _Yeah, he’s going to train me until Nationals_.”

“ _Oh my god, my triplets are going to freak!_ ”

Their car arrived at the Grand Prix official hotel, and there were dozens of paparazzi in front. Yuuri slunk down in his seat. 

Victor said something in Russian into his phone and then turned to Yuuri. He reached out and put his hand over Yuuri’s in a comforting gesture, switching to English. “It’s okay, they can’t see us in here, the windows are tinted. I told the driver to take us around the back.”

Yuuri sighed in relief. “Oh, okay. Good.” Victor smiled, squeezing his hand once before letting go.

Yuuri stared down at his hand. Victor had just… held his hand. And no one else could see, so it wasn’t for anyone’s benefit. He switched back to Japanese. “ _Yuuko, I’m sorry, but I have to get back to my hotel room now and get packed up. My mom can fill you in, and tell Minako I’ll text her, okay? I’m sorry I can’t talk longer_.” 

Yuuko sighed. “ _Okay, but I want details later, mister. You’re living the dream_.”

Yuuri laughed. “ _Talk to you soon_.”

Victor seemed to be finishing up his call, and he smiled before hanging up his own phone. “Who were you talking to?” Yuuri asked.

“My parents,” Victor said. “You?” 

“Same. And a friend.” 

“How’d they take it?” 

“About as well as can be expected. They want to have a wedding for us in Japan.”

“My mother wants me to bring you to meet them immediately,” Victor said, tapping his phone over his mouth. “I told her you were too shy to do that yet.”

Yuuri gulped, trying to imagine what that would be like—meeting his fake in-laws.

The car stopped at the back door of the hotel in an alley, obviously the door to the kitchen. The manager of the hotel was waiting for them. 

“Mr. Nikiforov, Mr. Katsuki. Ms. Balashov let me know you would be needing discreet assistance to your rooms.” 

“Nadiya really is good at her job,” Yuuri observed. 

“She should be, I pay her enough,” Victor replied, winking.

 

 

* * *

A few minutes later, Yuuri walked into his hotel room, which was in a state of mild disarray, just as he had left it when he’d gone to the banquet. He felt like a completely different person than the day before. Now, he was married to the most famous figure skater in the world, the man he’d looked up to his entire life. The man he had been too shy to talk to during the whole competition he’d come there to skate. 

Yuuri sat down on the bed, plugging in his phone again, since it didn’t charge enough at the restaurant. He sent a few texts to Mari and Minako, but they had been filled in by his mother, so calling them was lower priority.

Yuuri scrolled down his missed calls until he found the name he wanted, and hit “call.”

It picked up after a single ring. “The fuck, Yuuri?” Phichit yelled into the phone, not bothering to say hello.

Yuuri felt the knot in his stomach unclench just a little, the second that he heard his friend’s voice. “Isn’t it like two in the morning there? What are you doing awake?” 

“You think I can sleep when this is happening?”

“No, I guess not.” 

“So…? Is it true? Or do I need to go kill some people for spreading lies about my bestie?” 

Yuuri rubbed his eyes, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. “It’s all true.” 

“ _WHAT_?” 

Yuuri nodded, even though Phichit couldn’t see him. “Victor and I got married last night. But I don’t remember a thing about it, and neither does he. Apparently we drank too much at the banquet.” 

There was an inhuman squeal over the line. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, I’m not.” Yuuri let himself fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I woke up in bed with him this morning, both of us wearing rings. He was naked.” 

“Did he… did you…”

“No, we didn’t. We must have passed out when we got to the hotel room.” 

“Oh, thank god. You don’t want to like, not remember your first time, even if it was with Victor. Still, you must be freaking out right now.” 

“I am, believe me.”

“I can’t believe this. Those photos, Yuuri… you were making out with Victor Nikiforov for _hours._ I can’t believe you don’t remember it!” 

“You can’t tell anyone, you’re the only one who knows.”

Phichit snorted. “The whole world knows you two got married, Yuuri, I hate to break it to you.”

“No, no, not that part. The not-remembering part. We talked it over with his publicist, and we are going to stay married for a while, pretend it was on purpose. I’m going to St. Petersburg to live with him. No one can know it’s not real, not even my parents.”

Phichit was silent for a moment, and Yuuri could practically hear the wheels turning. “Why?”

“He’s worried about his sponsorships, or something. I guess he didn’t want to have another scandal.”

Phichit paused again. “Yuuri, did he make you do this?” 

“What?” Yuuri sat up quickly. “No! No, he’s not making me do anything. It benefits both of us.” 

“How is it benefitting you, exactly?” 

“He’s going to coach me until nationals.”

“Yuuri…” 

Yuuri felt his throat close up a little bit. It made sense that Phichit would be the voice of reason about all this.

“I thought about it, Phichit. I’m going to do it. He gave me an out, he said we could annul it if I wanted. He’s… a good guy, actually.”

Phichit made an incomprehensible noise over the phone. “Yuuri, you’ve been in love with him for a decade. This is not a good idea.” 

“I’ve been in love with the idea of him, with the famous-skater version of him. That’s not who he really is.”

“Does he know that you idolized him, though?”

“No,” Yuuri said, starting to throw things in his suitcase. He only had about fifteen more minutes before they had to leave.

“There’s a power disparity here, that’s all.”

“It’s not a power disparity. We came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. I’m going to live in his spare room, and he’s going to help me qualify for worlds, and in exchange all he’s asking is that I go out in public with him and get photographed once in a while.”

Phichit sighed. “I can’t change your mind.”

“No, you can’t. I’m doing this.”

“Just... Yuuri, please be careful, alright?” 

 _Why does everyone keep telling me to be careful_? “I will,” he said, snapping his suitcase shut.

 

 

* * *

The plane ride to St. Petersburg was only a couple of hours. Yuuri was exhausted, so he napped most of the time, listening to music. Victor did the same, and his head fell onto Yuuri’s shoulder at some point. Yuuri didn't mind. 

They landed in St. Petersburg through a thick bank of clouds that shrouded the lights from the city. The snow, buffeted by the high winds of a growing blizzard, swirled menacingly in the darkness outside. It was only a little past four in the afternoon, but the winter sun had passed below the horizon.A small shiver of anticipation ran down Yuuri’s spine. 

Victor had already turned on his phone, and he was texting away.

“I’m letting Yakov know we’ve landed and that we will be at practice tomorrow.” 

Yuuri made a small noise of assent, not looking away from the window.His anxiety was starting to make his hands tremble, and he pressed them together on his lap to keep Victor from seeing. 

For some reason, St. Petersburg seemed more foreign, more foreboding, than Sochi had. But then again, Yuuri had only been going there temporarily for a competition. 

He glanced back at Victor, swallowing. His silver hair had fallen forward, obscuring his eyes from Yuuri’s view, and his long, slender fingers were flying dexterously over the screen of his phone. 

“Are you sure about this?”Yuuri asked quietly. 

Victor glanced up at him, and seeing Yuuri’s expression, he stopped texting. 

“Second thoughts?” 

Yuuri licked his lips, trying to think about how best to word it. “It’s just. Maybe this isn’t actually a good idea. After all, you have your own nationals to worry about, and I don’t want to be a burden—” 

“Hey,” Victor interrupted. “Please don’t call my new husband a _burden_.”  

Yuuri felt himself flush, glancing around to see if anyone had heard him. 

Victor’s lips twitched playfully, but when his eyes looked down to see Yuuri’s trembling hands, his mirth disappeared. Yuuri tried to curl his finger tips inward to hide it, to no avail.

Victor watched him for a moment, his piercingly blue eyes fixated on Yuuri.

“Are you alright?” Victor asked gently. 

“I… ah. I get anxious sometimes.” _Understatement._  

“Is there something I can do?”

“No, I—I have pills, but I don’t like to take them until it gets really bad. This will pass. It’s just… a lot has happened in the past day.”

Victor pocketed his phone and pressed his shoulder into Yuuri’s.

“Can I hold your hand?”

“Um. Yeah, um.” Yuuri gulped. 

Victor took his hand, squeezing it. “It will be alright. We’re in this together,” he whispered. 

Yuuri nodded, feeling a little calmer. Victor’s touch grounded him, made him feel less at the whim of his anxiety. 

Victor looked down at their joined hands. “Don’t let the media circus get to you, okay? It’s going to be even worse for the next few days. The paparazzi will be everywhere. But you don’t have to answer any of their questions, alright? Let me handle that.” 

“Okay.”

Victor smiled and lifted Yuuri’s hand to kiss it. Yuuri blushed, hearing people murmuring and some phones clicking around them.

Their plane taxied to the jetway and once the door finally opened, they walked down the jetway to the airport. There were no press at the gate, but a lot of people immediately started taking out their phones and snapping pictures. 

“You really are famous,” Yuuri muttered.

“ _We_ are,” Victor said, smiling and waving at some of the fans.

When they were about to leave security, Victor stopped, looking outward. There were dozens of paparazzi beyond the glass doors.

Yuuri peeked around him. “Are they really waiting for us?”

“Yeah. Are you ready for this?”

Yuuri gulped. “Not really, but it’s not like I have a choice.” 

Victor watched the people flowing around them for a moment, then looked back at Yuuri. “Remember, don’t answer any of their questions, alright? We’ll just walk straight through them to the car. Nadiya will have someone get our luggage for us, so we don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to say anything. They’re going to shout at you, try to get you to say or do something. Just keep holding on to my hand." 

He held out his hand, and Yuuri stared at it for a second before he took it. He was about to be photographed by international press, holding _Victor Nikiforov’s_ hand. While they were both wearing wedding rings. It was surreal. 

“Ready?” Victor asked. Yuuri nodded, and Victor put on his sunglasses, which seemed odd since they were still indoors, and they started walking.

The second they got out of the glass doors, a million bulbs started flashing, and Yuuri realized why Victor had the sunglasses, because he wished he had some of his own. As Victor had predicted, the photographers all started shouting at them. Yuuri just ducked his head, holding onto Victor’s hand tightly and following in his wake. 

“My publicist released a statement, we have no further comment at this time,” Victor said loudly, leading Yuuri through the fray directly to a car outside.

Despite several more photographers in the way outside, they managed to get into the car.

Victor didn’t let go of his hand as the car pulled away. He grinned at Yuuri, seemingly completely unruffled by the onslaught of voracious paparazzi. 

“You’re in a good mood,” Yuuri said. 

“It’s good to be home,” Victor said, shrugging.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> [1] Яков? Что ты хочешь? Я спал = Yakov? What do you want, I was sleeping.
> 
> [2] Боже… И что? = For god's sake. So what?
> 
> [3] Я не знаю! Я ничего не помню. Правда, у меня ужасное похмелье. = I don’t know! I don’t remember anything. I have a horrible hangover though. 
> 
> [4]Похоже, он всё ещё здесь, прячется под одеялом. Что мы будем делать? = It looks like he’s still here, hiding under the covers. What are we going to do?


	2. Acclimatize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri moves into Victor's apartment in St. Petersburg and Victor takes him out on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to longhornletters for the beta.
> 
> I am so happy about the positive response to the first chapter! Thank you all for continuing to read.

When their car arrived at Victor’s apartment building, the paparazzi were camped out in front. The doorman opened the car door for them, pretending not to see the bulbs flashing all around them, and he said something to Victor in Russian. Victor nodded, taking Yuuri's hand.

“He’s going to bring up our suitcases,” he told Yuuri in English as they walked inside.

They took the elevator up to the penthouse (Yuuri wasn’t surprised at all that Victor had the penthouse), and the closer they got, the more Victor bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. Yuuri wondered where Victor got all this energy from; he, on the other hand, was exhausted, and breakfast felt like it was eons ago. Yuuri pulled the mask off his face, rubbing his eyes blearily.

When they arrived, Victor opened the door and was immediately bowled over by a giant ball of curly brown fur.

“Makka!” Victor laughed, his face radiant. The giant poodle licked him all over, wagging his tail manically.

Yuuri blinked at them, realizing he should have known Makkachin would be in Victor’s flat. His heart squeezed a little, remembering Vicchan, and he wished for the umpteenth time that he could have seen him one last time.

“Were you good while I was away? I hope Mila walked you enough,” Victor said, laughing again as Makkachin yipped and licked his face once more.

Victor finally extricated himself from under the dog and stood up. “Makkachin, this is Yuuri. Yuuri, Makkachin.”

Yuuri knelt, scratching Makkachin behind the ears with both hands. “Hello Makkachin,” he said, and he was rewarded with a huge lick to the face.

“He likes you,” Victor said, grinning. The joy in his face was absolutely catching, and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile back.

“I used to have a dog just like him,” Yuuri said. “He was smaller, though.”

“Really! What a coincidence.” Victor helped him stand and led him inside.

 _It’s not really a coincidence_ , Yuuri thought.

“Let me take your coat,” Victor said, putting his bag down in the entryway. Yuuri shrugged out of his coat, and Victor hung it up.

“Wow, your apartment is… wonderful.” Yuuri walked into the open-plan living room, awestruck because it was also _huge_.

“Thanks. I don’t get to spend as much time here as I’d like, since I’m always traveling for competitions.”

He picked up Yuuri’s backpack, despite his protests, and led him past the kitchen-living area and down the hall. “Here’s the guest room. Please let me know if there is anything at all that you need. I want you to feel comfortable here. I’m in the room just across the hall,” he said pointing at the master suite.

“Thank you. I’m going to take a shower, I think.” Yuuri took off his hat and scratched his head, yawning.

Victor nodded. “Towels are in the ensuite. Ivan will be up with our bags in a few minutes, I’ll leave yours outside. Are you hungry? I could make something, or order something.”

Before he could say anything, Yuuri’s stomach growled. They looked at each other and laughed.

“That seems like a yes. I don’t actually think I have any groceries, so I’ll call and order something. Anything in particular you want? Any allergies?”

“No allergies, but I’d prefer something healthy, if possible. I put on weight easily and I can’t risk that at this point in the season.”

Victor’s eyes flicked down Yuuri’s body. “You look fit to me.” Victor winked as he left the room.

Yuuri gaped after him. _Was he just… flirting with me?_

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. _No, he’s just a flirtatious person, that’s all._

Yuuri showered quickly, and once he emerged, his suitcase was just inside his door. He put on his pajamas and a well-worn t-shirt and walked back out into the hallway. Victor had some upbeat American 90s rock music on, and he was lying on the couch with Makkachin draped over him, drinking some wine. He was wearing a t-shirt with a loose, ripped neck, and some black sweatpants slung low on his hips.

Victor must have heard Yuuri coming down the hall, because he hung his head backward over the couch to look at him. He smiled, holding up his glass. “Want some?”

Yuuri shook his head. “I don’t know how you can drink right now. I’m still hungover.” He walked around the couch and sat down in a chair nearby, drawing his knees up to his chin and wrapping his arms around them.

“Hair of the dog, as they say. Food should be here in a few minutes.” Victor patted Makkachin’s head and lay back, closing his eyes. His bare foot tapped in rhythm to the music against the arm of the couch.

Yuuri let out a slow breath, resting his chin on his knees. It was strange to be in Victor’s living room, to be invited to see this kind of thing. He’d only ever seen Victor out on the ice, all poise and clean edges, sharpened and effervescent and dangerously beautiful. Now, he was soft, relaxed, completely at ease.

“This is… weird,” Yuuri said, eventually.

Victor laughed, opening his eyes. “What, you don’t normally marry complete strangers and move halfway across the world to live with them?”

Yuuri made a low noise in his throat, but didn’t point out that he was thinking about something else entirely. “To be fair, you’re not _actually_ a complete stranger. I had seen you around competitions before, you just didn’t remember me.”

The corner of Victor’s mouth quirked upward in amusement. “Skate America, for example?”

Yuuri blanched. “I just made that up on the spur of the moment, people would want to know when we started dating—”

“No, it’s a perfect cover. A competition we both attended, though I was not a competitor. I might use that when I’m telling people how we met.”

Yuuri set his chin on his knees, watching Victor scratch Makkachin’s ears. The poodle seemed completely content, his tail wagging lazily.

“Is this the Gin Blossoms?” Yuuri asked.

“Yeah, it is.” Victor hummed along with a few bars.

“Geez, you’re old,” Yuuri teased.

Victor gasped at him in mock shock. “My Yuuri thinks I’m old, whatever shall I do?” Victor threw his arm over his face, pretending to be distraught.

 _My Yuuri_. _He called me_ his _Yuuri._ Yuuri’s gaze fell on Victor’s hand, and he noticed that he hadn’t taken off his ring, even though they were alone.

Yuuri looked down at his own hand, realizing he’d forgotten about his ring. It was so comfortable, as if it was a part of him already. He twisted it on his finger.

The doorbell rang, and Makkachin barked, jumping up to run over to the door. Victor answered it and paid the delivery man, bringing the food into the living room and grabbing some plates from the kitchen. Yuuri started unpacking the food, which smelled delicious. There were a lot of different dishes, including some kind of heavy beef stew, but to Victor’s credit, there were also a lot of vegetables.  

“So are you wedded to your short program?” Victor asked, dishing some of the beef stew onto his plate.

Yuuri paused, his mouth full of food. “W-what?”

“As your new coach, I’m asking if you’d change your short program.”

Yuuri swallowed and blinked at him. “Victor, it’s the middle of the season. My Nationals are in what, ten days?”

“More than enough time to learn a new short program.” Victor shook the hair out of his eyes, and the loose shirt he was wearing fell down on one side, exposing his bare shoulder. Yuuri paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth, struck dumb for a moment.

Victor narrowed his eyes. “Yuuri?”

“Sorry, I...” Yuuri shook his head, trying to clear it. “I don’t think I could even find a choreographer in that amount of time, let alone create a whole new program.”

“Luckily for you, I have already been choreographing a new short program for next year, and I could just give it to you instead. I think it’s perfect for you.”

“But…”

Victor shifted in his seat on the couch, planting his foot in front of him and licking the spoon. “As I said earlier, your step sequences and spins are your strength. Your jumps are good, but you lack confidence in them. The program you’ve been skating puts too much emphasis on the jumps, and you’ve been having trouble with them, yes?”

The bare shoulder was taunting Yuuri. Even though he’d seen Victor’s entire naked body only that morning (though it felt like a lifetime ago), for some reason, the bare shoulder was more tantalizing.

“True,” he managed to say. He spooned more vegetables onto his plate.

“So let’s build on your strengths while we work on your jumps. Try some of the stroganoff. It’s delicious.”

“Also fattening,” Yuuri said, but he spooned a little of the beef onto his plate regardless. It was, indeed, delicious.

Victor picked up his wine glass again and swirled it around, watching Yuuri.

“So?”

“So…”

“Do you want to try the new program?”

Yuuri thought for a moment, spoon still in his mouth. “I guess we might as well. It’s not like I have anything to lose at this point,” he said.

Victor smiled, downing the rest of his wine in one go.

 

 

* * *

When Yuuri woke up in the morning, he felt completely disoriented. It was a feeling he should be used to at this point—having traveled all over the world for competitions—but for some reason it still happened to him every time.

He blinked at the unfamiliar wall for a moment before he remembered that he was in St. Petersburg, in Victor’s flat. There was something warm curled up behind him.

Yuuri turned over hesitantly, wondering if Victor had climbed into bed with him… and was greeted with a slobbery canine kiss.

“Makkachin!” he exclaimed, laughing as he hugged the dog, enjoying the feeling of his soft fur. It had been so long since he’d had Vicchan with him, he’d forgotten what it was like to have a dog to cuddle with.

There was a knock on his slightly-open door. “Come in,” Yuuri called out, giggling as Makkachin pawed at him and licked his face.

The door opened more, and a sleepy-looking Victor poked his head in. “Traitor,” he said to Makkachin, who yipped at him, turning onto his back.

“Does he usually sleep with you?” Yuuri asked, sitting up. “Sorry, I—”

“Oh, it’s not your fault.” Victor padded over to the bed and scratched Makkachin’s belly. “He’s just usually much more clingy when I get back from a trip. He must really like you.” Victor smiled at him, his hair slightly covering one eye.

Yuuri's heart started to pound in his chest. This _is going to be harder than I thought._ _At least if he keeps looking at me like that._

“I’m going to take Makka on his morning walk. When I get back, we’ll head to the rink. Practice doesn’t begin until ten, but I booked us some time to get you warmed up and acquainted with the place.” Victor stretched his arms upwards, cracking his back, and his shirt rose up a little to expose some skin between his jeans and his shirt. “Sound good?”

Yuuri nodded, unable to keep himself from staring at the little strip of skin.

“Good,” Victor said, letting his arms drop. “Let’s go, Makka!” Makkachin jumped off the bed excitedly, wagging his tail. “I’ll grab some coffee when I’m out, what do you like?”  

“I don’t drink coffee very much. Yesterday was the exception, with how hungover I felt. Just some black tea with milk, thanks.”

Victor nodded. “Sugar?”

“Yes, please.”

While Victor was gone, Yuuri put on his training clothes and packed his skating gear in his backpack. He was excited to get back on the ice, considering that only two days before he had thought his skating career might be over. At the same time, he was nervous to train in front of the Russian skating team, especially since he had married their star skater, and managed to snag him as his personal coach. They probably wouldn’t be very welcoming, to say the least.

Yuuri dropped his backpack behind the couch and looked in the fridge to see if there was anything he could make for breakfast. Luckily, there were some eggs that didn’t look too old, so he made an egg white scramble mixed with some of the vegetables from the night before.

Victor and Makkachin came back about twenty minutes later, right as Yuuri was putting two plates out. He handed Yuuri his tea with a warm smile. “You made breakfast?”

Yuuri took a long sip of his tea. It was just how he liked it, and still hot. “Yeah, I… wasn’t sure what you’d like, but I made some scrambled egg whites with veggies.”

Victor sat down, taking a forkful of the eggs. “Vkusno!”

“It’s just egg whites, don’t get too excited,” Yuuri said, sitting down, but he couldn’t help smiling back.

“What a lovely husband I somehow managed to catch, he’s even a good cook,” Victor said, bumping their shoulders together.

Yuuri rolled his eyes, sitting down next to Victor at the kitchen island. For the first time in a long time he felt...happy. He was sitting next to his idol, eating breakfast, and they were about to go and train together. It was still surreal to be talking to Victor at all, let alone all the rest of it. The weird thing was, he was starting to get used to it.

 

 

* * *

There were paparazzi outside the apartment again. Victor ignored them, leading Yuuri to a black car that was waiting outside.

“Do you ever drive yourself anywhere? Or, I don’t know, walk?” Yuuri asked.

“Why would I do that?” Victor looked puzzled. “Anyway, it’s too cold out to walk.”

“Right,” Yuuri muttered.

By some miracle, the press weren’t camped out in front of the rink yet, possibly because they knew that practice wasn’t supposed to start for a couple of hours (which was creepy in itself).

They got out of the car, and Victor seemed to have an extra pep in his step as he slung his gear bag over his shoulder and walked towards the rink.

Yuuri started to follow. As he looked up at the imposing-looking sign in the Cyrillic alphabet, though, he paused, feeling a burst of trepidation, his breath rising up in billowing clouds in the bitter air. He was about to start practicing with the _Russians,_ the most hard-core team in the world, and he was going to have to step up in every way in order not to make a fool of himself.

Victor had continued walking toward the rink, but when he noticed that Yuuri was no longer at his side, he stopped.

“Yuuri?”

“I’m… I’m fine.” Yuuri walked forward, shivering a little. He followed Victor toward the entrance, and once he got inside, his glasses started fogging up. “I’m going to need a warmer coat, I think, if I’m going to stay here a while.”

“We can manage that,” Victor said.

They walked down a hallway and through a second set of double doors, and the rink was laid out in front of them. The lights weren’t on, so it was still a bit dark, but the early morning light streamed through large windows on one side, illuminating the ice at intervals.

The second he saw the smooth surface, Yuuri’s fears melted away. No matter how much his anxiety ramped up, and how much he’d been through for the past several days, this—the ice—was his home. It wasn’t the same as Ice Castle or the rink in Detroit, but in the end, ice was ice. It let him be someone else, transform; feel more confident and beautiful than he ever felt on dry land.

“What are you thinking about?”

Yuuri turned to look at Victor, who was watching him with an appraising look. Yuuri shrugged, turning to sit down on the bench behind them and pulling his skates out of his bag. “I was just thinking that I couldn’t believe I almost gave this up. Skating, I mean.”

Victor’s brow furrowed. “You almost gave it up?”

“I just did so badly in the Grand Prix Final, and…” he hesitated. For some reason, he didn't want to tell Victor about Vicchan. “I just felt like my career wasn’t going anywhere. I was probably going to compete in Nationals, but if that didn’t go well… I would probably have hung up my skates and gone home to Hasetsu.”

He tugged one of his skates on. The silence between them stretched, and Yuuri tugged on his other skate.

“I can’t believe you were going to quit,” Victor said, finally.

Yuuri looked up at him, halfway through tightening his laces. “Why would that surprise you?”

Victor was leaning against the barrier, his arms crossed. His hair was just barely covering his eyes, so Yuuri couldn’t quite see his expression.

“Never mind.”

Yuuri frowned, but didn’t push him to answer further. Once he was done tying his skates, he walked over to the barrier, took off his skate guards and glided out on the ice.

The quasi-darkness made everything feel more ethereal, and he bathed in the sound of his lone blades on the ice. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt the cold bite of the air against his cheeks, the burn in his legs as he warmed up.

Victor joined him after a few minutes, and Yuuri couldn’t help feeling elated; he was skating on the same ice as Victor again, not long after he’d thought he was finished for good.

After he did a few circuits, Yuuri did some backward crossovers and some forward crossovers, and worked on both his edges until his legs felt warm. Eventually Victor beckoned to him, and they met at center ice.

“Shall we do some spins?” Victor asked. “I’d like to see your camel.”

Yuuri nodded, and he skated a little to get enough momentum before launching into a camel spin. 

Yuuri learned quickly that Victor was not an easy coach. He made Yuuri change a small detail and do the spin again, and again, and again. They practiced camel spins and sit spins for the next hour, until he was panting and sweating from the exertion.

“Stop,” Victor said, and Yuuri pulled out of the sit spin, his thighs burning.

“What did I do wrong now?” Yuuri gasped.

“Nothing.” Victor was completely calm and poised, not a hair out of place. “It was good. I want to see that step sequence you did in your short program last year, the one that had one of the highest point values ever.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Now, Yuuri,” Victor said sternly.

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at him, wondering why the sudden switch from spins, but he didn’t question Victor’s thought process. He had earned high points for the step sequence, but it wasn’t enough to counteract the lack of high-value jumps, so he’d switched the following season to focusing on more quads. The strategy had backfired in the end since he hadn’t been able to land the jumps in competition.

Yuuri skated over to the other side of the rink, and the music started in his head as he began the hellish step sequence from his program.

The step sequence took him across the entire rink, and by the end he was gasping for air.

“Again,” Victor said. “Watch your free leg on that one twirl when you’re at mid-ice, it was sloppy. And this time go into a camel-sit spin combo at the end. I think you have the stamina to do it.”

Yuuri nodded and skated back over to the other end. He started the sequence over again, paying attention to Victor’s notes, and executed a nearly-perfect spin at the end.

When he finished, there was a sound of clapping from the sideline. Yuuri blinked, looking over at the fuzzy shapes at the far end of the rink. Only one person was clapping: a woman with red hair. The other figures were watching him, but Yuuri couldn’t see their expressions.

Victor cocked his head, and Yuuri followed him to the edge of the rink. The bright overhead lights turned on as they skated over. The other skaters started walking over to their gear bags, chattering among themselves. Yuuri could see a few of them throw looks his way as they tied their laces or put on their skating gloves. 

A man with grey hair was standing at the side, waiting for them. Yuuri recognized him from competitions, as he was always with Victor in the kiss and cry.

Victor skated up to him. “Morning, Yakov!”

Yakov grunted, his arms crossed. He scowled at Yuuri—well, it seemed like a scowl, but it could also have just been his normal face.

“Yuuri, this is Yakov.”

Resorting to formality, Yuuri bowed, and then shook Yakov’s hand.

“So this is your new husband.”

“Yeah.” Victor looked almost bashful, ducking his head and running his hand over his hair.

“You’re going to be coaching him most of the time?” Yakov was still watching Yuuri with an evaluating stare.

“I’ll do most of it, I know you have your hands full. I was thinking about having him do the routine I’d been choreographing for next season instead of his current short program, to play to his strengths.”

“His step sequences are quite impressive, but... Vitya, you don’t have a lot of time to teach him a whole new short program before Nationals.”

“I think we can pull it off. The program is completely done, after all.”

Yakov grunted, and he moved away to talk to the red-haired woman.

Yuuri picked up his water bottle and took a long drink. “What did that mean?” he asked Victor.

“It means he agrees,” Victor said, taking a sip from his own bottle. “Well. Sort of.”

Yuri appeared in front of them, a bright blue hoodie pulled up over his blond hair. “ _Piggy_! I thought I told you to retire. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi Yuri,” Yuuri said, startled.

Yuri narrowed his eyes at Victor.  “I can’t believe you two idiots got married.”

“Idiots in looooove,” Victor said in sing-song, slinging his arm over Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri blushed.

“Oh my god, you’re disgusting,” Yuri said, starting to walk away. “That camel spin was shit, by the way,” he spat over his shoulder.

“I think he likes you!” Victor said brightly.

“Seriously?” Yuuri glanced over at Yuri, who was glaring daggers at him as he pulled on his skates.

Victor dropped his water bottle on the side of the rink again. “C’mon, let me see your triple axel.”

Yuuri nodded, skating away from the wall. Some of the Russian skaters were starting to do their warm-ups, including a slightly older man with strangely pointy hair. A couple of them were still watching him curiously, as if they were trying to figure him out, but most of them had expressions of grudging respect.

“You made me do that step sequence right when they arrived so they’d take me seriously, didn’t you?” Yuuri asked as they found a corner of the rink to themselves.

Victor raised his eyebrows at him but didn’t reply. “Triple axel, let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, leaning against the barrier.

Yuuri sighed, resigned. He skated around the rink a bit to gain speed, then launched into the triple axel, landing it with only a small wobble.

Victor shook his head. “Control your speed better when you’re going into it. Again.”

Yuuri skated around again and launched into the jump, this time having to touch his hand down. He heard someone snort in the background—probably Yuri.

“No, your speed is still too high when you launch into the jump. Here, I’ll show you.”

Victor skated out, making a circuit and coming around to execute a perfect triple axel. “See,” he said, coming back up to Yuuri. “Also, make sure and keep your center on the landing.”

He skated right up into Yuuri’s space, putting his hands on Yuuri’s waist. “Right here, this is where your power comes from.” Yuuri gulped, realizing how intimate this must look to the other skaters.

Victor smiled, rubbing Yuuri’s side with one hand slightly. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low. It felt like his hands were burning through the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt.

“I… um. Yeah,” Yuuri said breathlessly.

“You have a lot more power than you think.” Victor was so close that Yuuri could feel his warm breath on his face. “Like I said before, I am jealous of your stamina.”

Yuuri’s heart was pounding. “Well, I _am_ younger than you.”

Victor laughed. He tapped Yuuri on the nose, smiling, before he released him. “True, and you haven’t had any major injuries, that helps. Do it again, _zolotse_.”

Yuuri glanced around, but no one seemed to really be paying attention to them except Yuri, who was scowling, arms crossed, as Yakov yelled at him about something. Yuuri gulped, shaking his arms a bit before he did the axel again, trying to remember all of Victor’s tips.

Victor clapped. “Much better. Now this time, do a spread eagle right before you go into the jump.”

 

* * *

Victor made him do the axel over and over again until he was completely satisfied, then he had him do quad toe loop-triple toe loop combos until his legs were shaking. Yuuri did some work with Yakov while Victor ran through some jumps and drills of his own. By the time they got groceries and went home, Yuuri felt like he was about to collapse. Despite that, he changed out of his clothes and put on his running clothes (with plenty of layers), since he’d missed his normal morning run.

Victor was in the shower when he emerged, so he left him a note and ventured out into the freezing cold. Halfway through, his teeth were chattering and his lungs were burning.

When he got back, Victor had set out a healthy lunch of grilled chicken salad and protein shakes.

“You went for a run after practice? You really do work hard.”

“Gotta keep up that _stamina_ somehow,” Yuuri said, winking at him. Victor’s nose flushed, and he laughed, his head thrown back. Yuuri quickly hid his own blush by downing half of the protein shake in one go.

 _Oh my god, did I just say that? What was I_ _thinking?_

Victor started eating his salad standing up at the kitchen island. “So what do you think?”

“About?”

Victor waved his fork. “Yakov, the rink. Practice.”

“Oh.” Yuuri tilted his head a bit. “I think it was fine. It’s a little weird, not training with Celestino. I’ll get used to it though.”

“Anything you miss in particular? I want this to work, so you have to tell me what you need.”

Yuuri shrugged. “Uh. I guess I just miss Phichit. Which obviously can’t be helped.”

Victor looked thoughtful. “That Thai skater who posts photos of you online a lot?”

Yuuri nodded, taking another long sip of the protein shake. “He’s my best friend, the one I told about… you know. Us. We have been training together for a long time, and we were roommates back in Detroit. I’m definitely going to miss him.” _And having friends in general._ It wasn’t like the Russians had been particularly friendly that day.

Victor’s brow furrowed, and his eyes were focused deeply on Yuuri’s face. Yuuri wasn’t sure what to make of that look.

“I better take Makka on his afternoon walk,” Victor said, putting his empty plate in the sink. “I’ll see you later.”

Yuuri nodded, watching him leave. Victor looked lost in his thoughts as he put on his coat and grabbed Makkachin’s leash before leaving the flat.

Once Yuuri was done eating, he took a shower quickly and promptly passed out on his bed for a nap.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri awoke a few hours later—judging by the way the sun was slanting through the window it was nearly sunset—and there was a warm hand on his shoulder. He turned over to see Victor sitting next to him on the bed.

“Hi,” Victor said, smiling at him.

“Hi,” Yuuri mumbled, his gaze automatically falling on Victor’s hand.

“Sorry.” Victor dropped it quickly.

“No—it’s okay.” Yuuri mentally kicked himself for making it seem like he didn’t want Victor to touch him.

“You were really out. I didn’t want to wake you, since you might still be a bit jetlagged, but I was too excited.”

“Excited?” Yuuri rubbed his eyes.

“I got you something.” Victor pointed at an expensive-looking dark blue wool peacoat, hanging on the closet door. “I hope it fits.”

Yuuri’s jaw dropped. “Victor, you didn’t have to—”

“It’s the least I could do.”

Yuuri was about to protest again, but it was such a sweet gesture and Victor looked so hopeful.

“Thank you, Victor,” he said, putting his hand over Victor’s. Victor grinned, all of his features lighting up. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile back; Victor’s smiles were honestly infectious. He took a moment to just look at Victor: the way the late afternoon sunlight lit his silver hair, turning it into gold, and his eyes appeared to be a darker blue than normal.  

“I also have a request.”

“Mmm.” Yuuri blinked, trying to fight off after-nap drowsiness. “What is it?”

“Nadiya was hoping that we could go out to dinner tonight, and maybe be photographed together doing some… couple-y things.”

“Well we do all live to serve Nadiya,” Yuuri grumbled, and Victor laughed. “Where does she want us to go?”

“She picked out a restaurant, it’s downtown. Do you feel up to it? We just had a long practice, and you’re probably still jet-lagged—”

“No, no. I mean, we have to eat, anyway.” Yuuri sat up. “I’ll just, um. Get ready. What should I wear? I don’t really have many clothes with me, just like… jeans and a sweater.”

Victor pursed his lips. “I’m guessing there’s no chance you have another suit, other than the one you wore to the Banquet?”

Yuuri shook his head.

“Jeans and a sweater will be fine, then,” Victor said, standing up. “It’s really my fault that you don’t have anything with you other than what you brought to Sochi. If you get me a list of things you want from Detroit, I could pass it on to Nadiya. But in the meantime, I should buy you some clothes.”

“What? No, you don’t have to—”

“I have lots of money from all these sponsorships, it’s the least I can do to keep my trophy husband clothed stylishly.” Victor winked again and left the room.

Yuuri fell back into bed, putting a pillow over his face. He couldn’t stop smiling. He was going out to dinner with Victor, who had just bought him a beautiful new coat just because he wanted to. He was going _on a date_ with Victor Nikiforov, and even if it wasn’t real, it was something he had never dreamed would happen. He let himself bask in the memory of Victor’s afternoon-lit face for a moment longer, then hauled himself out of bed to take another shower.

 

 

* * *

An hour later, they were in the black car on their way to the restaurant—Yuuri wearing his new coat over his best sweater and jeans. Victor was wearing a crisp grey button down with some dark jeans that made his ass look amazing (not that Yuuri had been looking) and was texting someone again on his phone.

Yuuri took the opportunity to check his own phone. There were some texts from Phichit he’d been ignoring.

 _How’s it going? (10:21 am)_  
_I need details on what Victor’s like for real (10:22)_

_Yuuuuuuuri :( (3:46 pm)_

_Sorry, we were at practice and then I took a nap._  
_My legs feel like they’re going to fall off._  
_He’s really demanding. (5:45 pm)_

_I’ll bet ;) (5:46 pm)_

_Phichit! (5:46 pm)_

_Oh chill, I know you’re not doing anything with him._  
_At least, I hope you’re not. (5:47 pm)_

_I’m not. This is strictly business. (5:47 pm)_

_Riiiiiiight._

_So what are you doing now? (5:48 pm)_

_On our way to a dinner date._  
_His publicist’s idea. (5:48 pm)_

 _Looking forward to seeing the photos on TMZ (5:49 pm)_  

Yuuri grinned, pocketing his phone as they pulled up in front of a nice-looking restaurant. Sure enough, there were dozens of paparazzi in front.

“How did they know we were going to be here?” Yuuri felt a bit overwhelmed.

“I think Nadiya leaked it through twitter, indirectly.”

“Ah.”

Victor reached over and took his hand. “Ready?”

Yuuri nodded, and Victor opened the door, shouldering through the cameras and flashing lights, pulling Yuuri behind him.

Once they were inside, the maitre d’ smiled brightly at Victor as another person took their coats. “Mr. Nikiforov. Welcome. We have your table all ready. Please follow me.”

They followed him to the back of the restaurant, and Yuuri couldn’t help glancing at the broad windows at the front, where the paparazzi were still taking photographs. The other patrons of the restaurant were all staring at them, some murmuring behind their hands at each other.

Victor held the chair out for Yuuri, who blushed and sat down. The cameras were still flashing, though it was more muted than before.

“You okay?” Victor asked once they had settled in.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this,” Yuuri muttered. “Being this famous.”

“It never stops being weird,” Victor said earnestly.

A waitress walked up, handing them each menus.

“Good evening,” she said, smiling at Victor shamelessly. Yuuri sighed, though he knew it was to be expected; Victor was practically a movie star in Russia, after all.

“Good evening,” Victor said. He smiled widely at her, taking Yuuri’s hand across the table at the same time. The camera bulbs started flashing even harder, and the waitress looked like she was about to faint.

Her English was apparently exhausted, so the waitress and Victor exchanged a few words in Russian.  

“Red wine okay?” Victor asked Yuuri, rubbing his thumb over Yuuri’s knuckles, which was extremely distracting.

Yuuri hesitated. Normally he would refuse, but his nerves were particularly frayed, and he wouldn’t mind taking the edge off a little. “Just one. We do have to practice in the morning.”

Victor nodded at the waitress, who walked back over to the serving area. Several waiters and busboys had gathered there, watching them overtly.

“Yuuri,” Victor said, pulling Yuuri’s attention back to him.

“Yes?”

Before they could say more, however, an older man with slicked back hair and an expensive-looking suit came up to their table. Victor smiled at him politely, though Yuuri could tell he was a little bit peeved at another interruption.

“Sirs, I am Andrei Vasnikov, the manager here at this establishment,” the man said in very smooth English. “The reporters outside must be disturbing the enjoyment of your evening. Would you like me to ask them to leave? Technically they are not required to, as the sidewalk is public property, but I can request that they leave you in peace if you should so desire.”

Victor met Yuuri’s eye. “No, thank you,” he replied. “They will only leave us be when they finally get what they want, so it’s either now or later.”

The manager bowed and left them.

The menu was all in Russian, so Victor ordered for them, never letting Yuuri's hand go the entire time. Realistically, Yuuri knew it was just for show… but he was holding hands with the man he’d pined after from the age of twelve, and he was going to enjoy the heck out of it even if it was fake.

Once they’d sipped their wine a bit, Victor leaned his head on his free hand. “Yuuri,” he said, his voice like a soft purr, which sent a shiver down Yuuri’s spine.

“Yes?” Yuuri managed, his voice sounding squeaky in comparison. He grabbed his water glass to take a sip.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“Tell you… what?”

Victor shrugged. “About your family. Where you’re from, what hobbies you have. Your favorite food. If there’s a girl you like,” he tacked on, looking amused.

Yuuri nearly choked on the water. “Girl? No. No… girls.”

“Oh?” Victor’s smile slid even wider. “So you’ve only been with men?” he asked bluntly.

Yuuri bit his lower lip and stared down at the tablecloth, at the wine bottle, anywhere other than at Victor. He had never been with anyone, man or woman; not physically, or in a relationship. But he wasn’t about to tell the most infamous playboy of the last decade that.

“I’m gay,” Yuuri said, sidestepping the actual question to answer the underlying one.

“See, we already have one thing in common.” Victor ran his thumb over the ring on Yuuri’s hand. It was such a sweet, simple gesture, something that a real partner would do.

Yuuri blinked at him. “I know.” Victor’s eyebrows rose. “I… well. I kind of figured. Based on the fact that you are only ever seen dating men.”

Victor nodded, seeming to accept that explanation. “So do you have a lover?”

“No,” Yuuri said, a bit too quickly.

“What about ex-lovers?”

“I—I’d rather not talk about it.”

Victor tilted his head to the side. “Not even Phichit?”

Yuuri laughed, because the idea was so absurd. “No, no. I mean, I love Phichit, but not like that. We’ve never been like that.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but it almost looked like Victor’s shoulders relaxed a little bit. “No one else? Not even a crush on someone?”

 _No one other than you_ , Yuuri thought. He just shook his head.

“Hmmm,” Victor hummed, pouring them each more wine. Yuuri thought about protesting, but instead, he just took another sip. “Well, let’s talk about me! My first lover was—”

“Oh my god, please, don’t,” Yuuri said, blushing. He knew pretty much everything about Victor’s romantic past, thanks to his wikipedia page.

Victor sighed. “Very well." There was a long moment of silence, and then Victor spoke again.

"Where are you from?” he asked, changing the subject abruptly.

“I… um. I’m from Hasetsu, it’s a small town on the sea. Kind of like here,” Yuuri waved his hand to indicate St. Petersburg. “My mom and dad own an onsen—that is, a hot springs, with an inn attached.”

Victor grinned. “I knew that, actually.”

“You did? How?”

“Well, that is one thing I remember from the banquet before the rest of it went blank. You telling me about that.” Victor took another big drink of wine.

“Ah. Um. Yeah. My sister lives there too.”

“Do you miss them? Your family?”

“Yeah, I do. I haven’t been back in a while, mostly because of school and training. It’s also really expensive, since it’s so far away.”

“Are you going to visit when you’re in Japan for Nationals?”

Yuuri nodded. “I was hoping to, yeah.”

“Maybe I could go too!”

Yuuri tensed, thinking about his room back in Hasetsu, which was practically a Victor Nikiforov shrine. “You don’t… you don’t have to. They’ll ask you all kinds of questions.”

“That’s what this is for, _zolotse_. Getting to know each other so we can answer questions about each other, if asked.”

That was the second time Victor had called him that. Yuuri wanted to ask what it meant, but Victor was already on to the next question. “What do you do for fun?”

“Not much. Between school and training I don’t have a lot of time. I game sometimes.”

“Game?” Victor cocked his head inquisitively.

“Yeah, like… computer and video games? Halo, PS4, that kind of thing.”

“Ohhhh. Video games. I’ve never really played.”

“It’s not for everyone.” Yuuri fidgeted slightly in his seat, wondering when Victor was going to let go of his hand.

“What’s your favorite food?”

“I feel like I’m being interrogated.”

Victor laughed, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry, I just want to know more about you.”

“Um. My mom’s katsudon. That’s my favorite food.”

“What’s that?”

Yuuri took another sip of wine. It was making him feel a little less self-conscious, but he had to make sure he didn’t drink more than two glasses, or he’d be regretting it in the morning. “It’s a pork cutlet bowl, with rice and eggs. It’s extremely fattening, so I only let myself eat it when I’ve won a competition.”

Victor licked his lips. “That sounds delicious.” His voice was low and smooth, and Yuuri’s mind skipped a beat. For a long moment, he was unable to stop focusing on anything but Victor’s lips. The sides of his mouth turned upward, and Yuuri’s gaze flicked up to meet Victor’s eyes.

Luckily, their waitress arrived with a first course: some kind of vegetable and sausage soup. Victor released Yuuri’s hand, and Yuuri flexed it, putting it in his lap.

“What about you?” Yuuri asked, after tasting the soup.  

“What about me?”

“Your family, where you’re from, _et cetera_. Fair’s fair.”

Victor smiled brightly, as if he hadn’t expected Yuuri to ask. “Oh. Well. I was born in Moscow, and lived there until I was old enough that I had to move here for training. My parents still live there.”

“Really? I thought…”

“That my parents were dead?” One of Victor’s eyebrows rose.

“I. Uh. Maybe?”

Victor shrugged. “It’s not a ridiculous assumption. The truth is, I have never been that close with my father. He was gone a lot of my childhood, and he wasn’t a huge fan of figure skating, he wanted me to go into… other things. My parents were both a little famous in their own right, especially Papa. But I never talked about them in interviews, because I wanted to make my own way, not be in the spotlight because of them. Nikiforov is a common enough name that no one put it together.”

Yuuri thought about that for a moment.  “Do they ever get to see you skate?”

“At competitions? Papa isn’t able to much because of work, but once in a while Mama comes to see me when I’m in Russia. I just don’t tell the press who she is; she is just another face in the crowd. We prefer it that way. Let’s see… my favorite food is tricky, because I have a favorite food in each country. Do I have to choose just one?

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I guess.”

Victor sighed, looking torn. “Well. If I had to choose just one, I suppose it would be the fresh seafood paella, in Barcelona. But I also really love hot pot in China, it’s delicious. The shrimp, and duck blood! Oh, and American cheeseburgers are to die for. There’s this one little place in Boston—”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Okay, so I’m guessing one of your hobbies is eating.”

Victor glared at him, but his mouth twitched in mirth. “I love cooking, too.”

“That’s related to eating.”

“It’s an added benefit.”

The waitress cleared their soup bowls away, and Yuuri was surprised to see that he’d eaten all of his already. Somehow, talking to Victor made time pass quickly.

Their main meals arrived, and they chatted more about their childhoods, where they had traveled for competitions, and stories about rink-mates.

By the time a decadent-looking chocolate mousse had been set on the table, Yuuri had almost forgotten that the paparazzi were still outside, and that this wasn’t a real date.

“This looks amazing!” Victor scooped a little mousse onto a spoon, holding it out to Yuuri.  

When he realized what Victor was doing, Yuuri shook his head. “I don’t need any extra calories right now. Besides, I’m stuffed.”

“Just a little won’t kill you. Your coach says it’s fine.”

Yuuri sighed and opened his mouth. The cameras started flashing insanely fast, and when the spoon passed Yuuri’s lips, Victor’s gaze flicked downward. Yuuri let the chocolate melt on his tongue, licking his lips and realizing belatedly how sexual it probably looked.

“You have—let me,” Victor said, and before Yuuri could protest, Victor reached out to rub some chocolate off of Yuuri’s bottom lip, then raised the thumb to his own mouth and licked it off. He never dropped his gaze from Yuuri’s the whole time.

 _Oh. My. God,_  Yuuri thought. _He’s going to give me a fucking heart attack._

Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly handle more, Victor leaned across the table until his mouth was next to Yuuri’s ear. “And now I’m going to pretend I’m whispering what I’m going to do to you later, so that you’ll blush.”

As if on cue, Yuuri blushed, and the cameras flashed even more.

“You’re terrible,” Yuuri managed to say, taking a long gulp from his water glass.

“And you’re adorable when you’re embarrassed,” Victor said, taking another spoonful of the mousse and eating it, his eyes closing in apparent relish.

“I…” _have no idea how to respond to that,_ Yuuri thought. The taste of the chocolate was still on his tongue, and it felt like Victor's thumb had left a permanent imprint on his lip.

Victor was now licking the spoon, as if he was completely unaware that he was still in full view of the international press. “Last question, and then I promise the interrogation is over for the evening,” he said. “If you could have picked one profession other than skating, what would it be? What would you have done instead?”

Yuuri rested his chin on his fist. It wasn’t an unreasonable question; after all, when he retired, he was going to have to do something else with his life. He couldn’t skate forever, even if he didn’t retire that year.

“I have always been good with computers, and my degree in college will be in computer science. I guess I could have done something with that. Coding for an app or something.”

Victor nodded thoughtfully.

“What about you?” Yuuri asked. “What would you have done?”

“There’s never been anything for me but skating. It’s hard to imagine doing anything else.” Victor looked almost sad, putting his spoon down on the plate.

“That’s not fair, you’re the one who came up with this game.”

Victor sighed. “I suppose… maybe a food critic.”

“And we’re back to food again. I’m sensing a theme,” Yuuri teased.

Victor stuck his little pink tongue out at him, and Yuuri laughed.

When they paid the check (Victor insisted on taking care of it, though Yuuri put up a fight), Victor helped Yuuri put on his coat and very deliberately took his hand again, leading him out the front doors. There were somehow even more reporters outside than when they had entered the restaurant, and Victor shouldered his way through them, holding Yuuri’s hand tightly. It had only been a day and a half, but Yuuri was already starting to have trouble imagining a future in which that hand wasn’t holding his.


	3. Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor get closer, and there’s an unexpected guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longhornletters is a beautiful land mermaid.

The next morning, Yuuri emerged from his room to find Victor already gone. There was a note on the kitchen counter from him, stating that he’d headed over to the rink early to practice before they had their workout. There was some still-warm tea on the counter as well, prepared just how he liked it.

Yuuri smiled, drinking the tea as he quickly fixed himself a protein shake. The weather app on his phone said that it was a little less cold than the day before, and he decided to run the three miles to the rink. Once he finished off his shake, he put on his running clothes, packed his skates in his backpack and set off. 

It took a little more stopping than usual because he had to check his GPS, but Yuuri made it to the rink by half past eight. There was no one there yet other than Victor, who was out on the ice. As Yuuri stepped through the double doors, he recognized the melody immediately; it was Victor’s free skate music.

Yuuri hid in a shadow, not wanting to break Victor’s concentration. He’d seen this routine several times in person and on TV, but was something a little more intimate about watching Victor like this—in his comfortable training clothes, completely alone in the semi-darkness.

Victor swept through the graceful step sequence in the middle of the program, turning on his axis like it was nothing. His silver hair glinted in the light from the window as he moved between the shadows, his movements smooth and seemingly effortless, though Yuuri knew firsthand how much effort was required to make them. He flew over the ice, executing the triple lutz perfectly, followed shortly by the triple flip, and skated over to the side, smiling and waving his arms at where the judges would be sitting.

Victor launched into his final combination, a quad-triple toe loop. The operatic tenor swelled, and he curled into his flying sit-spin, twirling faster and faster until his arms were above his head, and freezing in his end pose. The new silence was broken only by Victor’s short breaths.

Yuuri released the breath he had been holding, and he clapped loudly. Victor’s head snapped in his direction, and he grinned so widely that Yuuri had to look behind him to make sure no one else was there.

“Yuuri!” Victor skated quickly over to him.

“That was perfect,” Yuuri breathed. 

“You of all people know that no program is ever perfect.” Victor leaned down to brush the ice shavings off his skates. “Now I’ll show you your new short program. I just put the finishing touches on it this morning.”

Victor put a new CD in the stereo and skated out to the middle of the rink. He settled into the starting pose, arms at his sides and his hips cocked to the side.

“This is called On Love: Eros,” Victor said. “Press play.” 

Yuuri nodded, pressing the button. A spanish sounding guitar began to play, and Victor twirled his hands around himself, twisting his hips as he flicked his hands by his sides. He turned his head to the side and winked directly at Yuuri as he stomped his foot out in front of himself. 

 _Whoa_ , Yuuri thought, watching him with fascination. A jaunty violin joined the spanish guitar, and Victor went into a tango-esque step sequence to open the routine. He danced over the ice, twirling in an intricate and intoxicating way.

 _This routine is chock-full of sex appeal_ , Yuuri thought, his anxiety starting to creep in. _How am I ever going to pull this off?_

The step sequence transitioned seamlessly into a camel spin, just like Victor had had him do the day before. Then there were more dance-like steps with flair, a spread eagle into a triple axel, followed by a quad salchow, and finally a quad-triple combo at the end. The routine was difficult, but it was also dripping with sexuality—so much, in fact, that Yuuri was starting to feel a pooling of arousal deep in his core.

Victor finished with a twirl, pulling his arms around himself with a final flourish.

“Wow,” Yuuri breathed. He leaned over the bannister, because certain parts of his body had… taken an interest, and he wasn’t about to let Victor see until he calmed down. 

Victor skated over. “What do you think?”

Yuuri gulped, his mouth dry. “I think there’s no chance I could ever do it justice.”

Victor shook his head. “You did all the hardest elements yesterday. Well, the step sequence was different, but honestly yours was harder. We’ll have to work on your quad sal a lot, but it’ll get there.” 

Yuuri blinked at him, realizing that Victor had essentially tricked him the day before into running through most of the difficult elements of the routine, including the spread eagle into the triple axel.

Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay… I’ll try it. It’s definitely not an easy routine, especially with the quad-triple at the very end.”

Victor picked up his water bottle, taking a long swig. Yuuri tried to avoid staring at the long white column of Victor’s throat, instead focusing his gaze on the banners on the far wall, which featured stern-looking Russians staring off into the distance and their hands on their hearts. Yuuri wondered if it had been left over from the old USSR.

“I didn’t have the quad-triple combination at the end at first,” Victor admitted, putting down his water bottle. “It was only going to be a quad loop, but I figured with your stamina, we might as well take advantage.” He winked, grinning widely.

Yuuri made a small noise in the back of his throat. That was definitely _not_ helping him calm down.

“Come on out, I want to show you the step sequence and then we’ll work on some jumps.”

“I… um.” Yuuri felt a flush creeping up his neck. He wished he could lie directly on the ice to cool down. “I need... to put on my skates. Just a minute.” 

Yuuri didn’t wait for a response, turning around and sitting down on the bench. He tried to concentrate on breathing and forget about how ridiculously sexy Victor had been on the ice.

When he finished tying his skates and stood up again, Victor was running through some quad loops. Yuuri took a long drink of water and joined him on the ice after he felt presentable enough. He skated out, trying not to let himself get distracted by the lines of Victor’s body as he moved.

Once he was warmed up enough, Victor called out to him and they met at center ice. 

“The step sequence is the beginning of the seduction,” he said, twirling on his axis in the first few steps. “You have to radiate confidence.”

Yuuri emulated his movements, but Victor stopped him immediately. “No, like this, he said, doing it again.

Yuuri tried the step, but Victor had him adjust and do it again, and again, before he moved on.

It was grueling and intricate, and after an hour, Yuuri only had roughly the first half down.

“It’ll get there,” Victor said.

Yuuri scowled, feeling disappointed in himself. Step sequences were his strength, after all; he should be able to do this much more easily. If he didn’t master this new routine—one Victor had tailored for him—how would he ever do well at Nationals, let alone at Worlds? He was a failure, and he always would be. Victor was wasting his time with him.

Yuuri stared at his water bottle, his hands starting to tremble and his vision getting blurry.

“What are you thinking right now?” 

Yuuri looked up, his vision clearing a little. Victor was leaning against the bannister, arms crossed, watching him appraisingly.

“I’m…” Yuuri gulped. _I’m worried I’m going to disappoint you. That I’m wasting your time._  

Victor’s eyes were a clear, mesmerizing blue. “You don’t have confidence in yourself.” It was a statement, not a question.

Yuuri fidgeted under his gaze, pulling his skating gloves more snugly over his hands. “I… I guess not,” he mumbled.

“It’s ridiculous.”

“What?” Yuuri blinked at him in surprise. 

“I’ve seen what you can do, and I’m telling you that your lack of confidence in yourself is ridiculous.”

“Whereas you seem to have enough confidence for the both of us,” Yuuri snapped. 

It was Victor’s turn to look stunned. Yuuri ducked his head, feeling a bit ashamed, and he skated off, doing a few circuits to try and clear his head. After he’d gone around a few times, the panic had completely melted away.

Victor joined him, watching him carefully.

“See?” 

Yuuri stopped short in the middle of his circuit. “See what?”

Victor stopped too. “There’s a fire in you that you have barely tapped into.” Victor skated up into his personal space, poking him in the center of the chest. “You try to hide behind this weak demeanor, a mild-mannered guy with glasses. But that’s not who you really are.” 

“I don’t—” Yuuri protested, but before he could say any more, Victor’s finger was on his lips.

“ _Stop_ interrupting me.” Victor’s voice was forceful but not angry. He was even closer than before, their eyes only inches apart. Yuuri’s heart was galloping in his chest, and he couldn’t look away. 

“That fire you have, smoldering deep down inside? I can see it right now. That determination, that drive. _That’s_ what I want to see on the ice. You don’t have to say anything, just show it to me. Don’t convince yourself you’ve failed before you’ve even begun. Got it?”

Yuuri didn’t see any way out of agreeing, so he nodded.

“Good,” Victor said, nodding back. “Now let’s take a break from the step sequence for a while and work on the triple axel from the spread eagle.”

Yuuri did so many triple axels in a row that he felt like his legs were going to fall off by the time the rest of the Russian team showed up. But every time he glanced at Victor, he smiled, looking pleased, and Yuuri felt more proud than when he was standing at the top of a podium.

The Russian skaters were slightly less frosty with him during practice that day. The red-haired woman—Mila, he learned—even chatted with him during short breaks, asking him about himself and generally being friendly.

When Victor was working with Yakov at the other end of the rink, Yuuri skated over to Yuri Plisetsky.

“What do you want?” Yuri asked, looking up from his phone. He didn’t seem to work very hard, but then, he was easily at the top of his bracket this year. He would have to work a lot harder when he made his senior debut.

Yuuri pressed his palms together and put them to his forehead, bowing slightly. “Please, will you help me learn how to land a quad salchow?” 

Yuri looked at him with disdain, reminding Yuuri vividly of their encounter in the bathroom at Sochi. “You still can’t do a quad sal? I landed one in competition when I was twelve.” 

Yuuri didn’t get up from his bow. “Please?” 

“Fine,” Yuri said, tossing his phone to the side. “Let me see what you’ve got.”

Yuri watched him try the sal the first time, and laughed when Yuuri fell. He showed Yuuri a perfect quad sal, telling him how to adjust his technique.

“Your landing leg is shit, piggy,” Yuri spat out when Yuuri fell for the fourth time.

“Just tell me how to fix it,” Yuuri said as he brushed the ice off his legs.

Yuri sighed, crossing his arms, and glared at Victor when he caught him smiling at them from afar.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri fell into an easy pattern with Victor over the next few days. They woke up and had breakfast together, and Yuuri ran to the rink (Victor ran with him the first day but decided it was too cold after that). They practiced the Eros routine until the kinks were ironed out, and Yuuri could more or less skate the whole thing through. Victor had him work on his free skate as well, tweaking some of the more problematic points. 

The paparazzi was still camped out at both Victor’s apartment and the rink, but there were fewer of them as the days went by. They were starting to be old news, it seemed.

A PS4 and several games appeared in the living room one day. When Yuuri asked him about it, Victor just shrugged and said he hoped he’d picked some good ones. Yuuri tried to protest, but Victor wouldn’t listen. 

In the afternoons, they did strength training or Yuuri went to the ballet studio with Yuri, where a very severe woman with a tight bun on her head put him through his paces. At night, they shared a meal, and then sat on the opposite ends of the couch, either watching a movie or playing video games. Well, Yuuri played and Victor half-watched, half-read a book. When Victor inevitably fell asleep with his book on his chest, Yuuri would pause the game and simply watch him; his silvery eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks, his hair slung over his face, his shirt rucked up a little to show his flat, muscular stomach.

Yuuri was pretty sure that he was eventually going to die of want.

One day, a dozen large packages arrived, addressed to Yuuri. Two of the packages were full of things he had requested from his dorm (along with a note from Phichit, which made Yuuri miss him terribly) and the ten other packages were full of designer clothes, all in Yuuri’s size. Yuuri was about to yell at Victor when he saw the note from Nadiya: Victor’s sponsors all wanted him to be seen in their clothes, and had sent them along.

“I can't accept these,” Yuuri protested. 

“We might as well both enjoy the spoils of our fake nuptials,” Victor said, shrugging. Yuuri eventually relented.

 

 

* * *

“It’s still not right,” Yuuri said, sitting down to take off his skates after practice was done one day, feeling frustrated. He had the whole routine down, except for the quad sal, which was getting there but still wasn’t perfect. 

“There’s definitely something missing.” Victor was tapping his index finger on his lips. 

“What is it?”

Victor cocked his head to the side. “I think we should take the afternoon off and do something fun instead.”

Yuuri sat up straight, confused at the sudden change in topic. “We should?” 

“Some sightseeing and then some dinner.” Victor nodded as if it was decided. “After all, you haven’t seen much of your new home yet.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at him. “Did Nadiya put you up to this?”

Victor laughed. “No. Well, full disclosure, she’s been hounding me for the last two days to take you out in public again, but I told her that you really wanted to concentrate on training for a bit before we did that. So that’s not my motivation, though it’s an added benefit.” 

He shrugged on his coat and helped Yuuri into his before picking up his gear bag. 

“What is your motivation, then?”

“All work and no play makes Yuuri a dull boy,” he said, starting to walk toward the doors, pulling on his expensive-looking leather gloves as he walked.

“Did you just quote _The Shining_ at me as a reason to go do touristy things?” Yuuri tugged on his warm knit hat. 

“Its words ring true in multiple contexts,” Victor said, flashing him a grin. 

They walked through the double doors, past the paparazzi (which Yuuri was getting used to ignoring) and into the waiting car. 

Yuuri leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, his breath fogging it up. He was actually relieved to be forced to do something other than practice, even though he knew he should be training every single second for Nationals.

“Stop it,” Victor said without looking up from his phone. 

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking about missing the afternoon of practice. Your coach says it’s alright.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “When are you going to stop using the ‘your coach says it’s okay’ excuse to get me to cut corners?”

Victor put his finger over his lips and appeared to think for a moment. “Never.”

Yuuri snorted, smiling a little to himself. 

When they arrived back home they showered quickly, and Victor insisted on helping Yuuri pick out an outfit.

Victor put some dark jeans on the bed. “These. And this white Armani button-down, yes. And this brown scarf will look perfect against your new coat.”

Yuuri took the shirt and scarf, and Victor stood there, waiting.

“Can I have some privacy?” Yuuri asked, his voice sounding squeaky. 

Victor sighed, but he walked out of the bedroom. “I want to see when they’re on,” Victor called through the crack in the door. 

Yuuri put on the snug jeans and the shirt, buttoning it up quickly. He didn’t have time to put his glasses back on before Victor pushed the door open, his arm extended.

Victor’s gaze swept down Yuuri’s frame. “Mmm. Turn around.” 

Yuuri did as he was told, turning on the spot. 

Victor bit his lip, nodding. “Perfect. The white sets off your hair, and those jeans show off your… assets.” 

Yuuri blushed, especially when Victor pecked his cheek and swept off to pick out his own outfit.

 

 

* * *

“I’ll let you choose which we go to today,” Victor said, opening the door for Yuuri when they emerged from the apartment building. “Palace or Cathedral?”

“Uh. Cathedral I guess?” Yuuri opened the car door and slid in.

“Good choice.” Victor leaned forward to talk to the driver in quick Russian. The driver nodded and they drove off.

Twenty minutes later they arrived at an enormous cathedral, and Victor said something to the driver again before getting out of the car and walking around to open the door for Yuuri.

He took Yuuri’s hand. “This is St. Isaac’s Cathedral,” he said. As they walked up the massive steps, people around them started to snap photos. 

“Do you know anything about this place?”

“Not a thing, but I’ve always wanted to come here!” Victor paid their entry fee and got them both some brochures.

They walked through the entrance and into the cathedral itself, passing by soaring marble colonnades. The massive empty space was thronging with tourists, taking photos and oohing and ahhing over the extravagant Renaissance paintings. When they walked directly underneath the dome, Yuuri craned his neck backwards to look up at the gigantic, ornate structure, which was circled by statues in gold. The columns soared on each side, and there were vibrant paintings on the very top. The style was a little overly ornate for Yuuri’s spartan taste, but it was awe-inspiring. 

Victor sighed, taking his hand. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmured. 

Yuuri tore his eyes away from the dome to look at Victor, who was still staring upward. Victor’s hair glinted in the light coming down from the dome, his neck a long expanse of pearly white. Yuuri imagined what it would be like to kiss that neck, to nuzzle against it.

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathed. “Beautiful.”

Victor blinked, turning to meet Yuuri’s eyes. He smiled, squeezing Yuuri’s hand once. Yuuri smiled back bashfully, trying and failing to ignore the clicking of phones around them.

“I bought us tickets to climb up to the dome. Want to head up? The view is supposed to be amazing.” 

Yuuri glanced back up at the dome, and was struck by just how far away it seemed.

“Oh, um. Okay.” 

“It’ll be fun, c’mon.” 

They gave their tickets to the man posted at the entrance, and started walking up the long staircase. After several minutes, Yuuri’s already-tired legs were starting to burn, but Victor wasn’t showing any signs of fatigue.

“I’m starting… to think… this was your way… of getting me to work out… this afternoon… after all,” Yuuri gasped as they stopped to rest halfway up. 

Victor huffed. “No, really, I just wanted to take you up! I didn’t realize it was going to be this far.” 

Yuuri caught his breath and they started up again. When they finally made it to the top, Yuuri was more than a bit winded. He wondered how anyone who wasn’t a world-class athlete could make that climb.

Victor took his hand again and led him to the side. There was a group of girls in their early twenties, obviously tourists, looking over the side and taking pictures. One of them, a blond girl, saw Yuuri and Victor and her jaw dropped. She poked her friend and pointed at them.

Yuuri sighed, turning his back slightly. It wasn’t surprising that they were so recognizable, but he wished that they could just have one afternoon without people gawking at them.

“We’re already all over Instagram, I imagine,” Victor was leaning over the bannister on his elbows. “Just ignore it.”

Yuuri nodded, turning to look out on the expanse of buildings under the cloudy sky. The winter wind picked up a bit, nipping at his neck, and he pulled his coat more firmly around himself. It really was a breathtaking view, even though it would probably be probably more fun without the winter wind. Victor pointed out specific things in the city skyline, including the general vicinity of the rink and his apartment. Eventually, they lapsed into comfortable silence, simply staring out into the distance. 

Yuuri looked down at his hands. “So this is the part where you tell me that I should put my life in perspective, and that the competition is just one small thing in comparison with the beauty of the world, right?”

Victor cocked his head at him. “What?” 

“You said… you said we should go sightseeing because I wasn’t getting my Eros routine right.”

Victor’s face relaxed in comprehension. “Yes, but that wasn’t it.”

“What is it, then?”

Victor took Yuuri’s hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing the knuckles one by one. The blond girl made a noise that made Yuuri wonder if she was having an aneurism. Yuuri didn’t blame her; he felt like he might have one himself. 

“The key to the Eros routine is to find what passion is to you,” Victor said, his voice so low that only Yuuri could hear. “The thing that makes you lose your mind, makes you want to drown in ecstasy. You have to find that before you can truly tap into the core of Eros.” 

Yuuri swallowed. He knew exactly what his Eros was: the man standing in front of him. He attempted deflection. “And freezing on the top of a church is going to accomplish that?” he croaked.

Victor chuckled, moving a little closer. “No, _zolotse_ , the church was just a way get you out of your own head. But I can see that’s not going to be as easy as I thought.”

Victor reached up to cup Yuuri’s cheek with his gloved hand, and he was still holding Yuuri’s hand with the other. The gesture was heartbreakingly intimate, and Yuuri felt as though he and Victor were the only two people in the entire world. At the same time, he was aware that there had to be a thousand eyes on them at that moment.

Victor ran his thumb over Yuuri’s lips. “What makes your heart pound? What makes your blood sing?” 

Victor’s body was close enough that Yuuri no longer felt cold. His cheeks heated, his eyes automatically falling to Victor’s lips, wondering what it would feel like if Victor closed the last few inches between their faces. He wondered what he would taste like, if his mouth would be soft, if his tongue would slant against Yuuri’s own. He imagined the noises he would make if Yuuri pressed him up against the barrier, slotting his knee between Victor’s thighs, pressing their hips together.

Victor’s lips slid upward into a smile. “ _There_. There it is. Whatever you’re thinking about right now is your Eros.”

 _Fuck,_ Yuuri thought, immediately stepping backward half a step. It was torture, all of it was torture. He knew that Victor was only putting on a performance for the cameras, for the publicity, but it felt so real that his heart was going to explode.

“What were you thinking about?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri panicked. “My mom’s katsudon,” he blurted out. “It makes me lose all control.”

Victor watched him for a moment, then laughed.

_Oh my god, did I just say that? I’m going to crawl under a rock and die._

“I’m… um.” Yuuri cleared his throat. “I must just be hungry. I know it’s early, but can we get something to eat?”

Victor’s nose was a little pink, and Yuuri couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

“Of course,” Victor nodded. He squeezed Yuuri’s hand once more, and led him back toward the stairs.

 

 

* * *

Victor had the driver take them to a small restaurant out of the way. Astoundingly, there were no press around.

“They know me here. They’ll make sure that no one bothers us,” Victor said, leading Yuuri inside. “I imagine you don’t feel like being in the public eye for a bit.”

Yuuri couldn’t help wondering how Victor knew him so well after only a week, but he nodded. “Thank you.”

The hostess smiled, immediately leading them back to a small alcove where they were shielded from view.

“Doesn’t this defeat the purpose of being seen together?” Yuuri said, sliding into the booth.

“I think we more than met our quota for today. Check your phone.” Victor opened his menu and started perusing it. 

Yuuri raised an eyebrow, taking out his phone which he hadn’t checked since before practice that morning. 

Sure enough, there were dozens of texts—mostly from Phichit—the first of which was just a long stream of incomprehensible emojis.

 _Yuuri, pics of you guys are all over the place (2:30 pm)_  

 _God this picture! (link) (2:40 pm)_  

 _You guys are trending on Twitter and Instagram._  
_The new tag is #victuuri, get it?_  
_Hah people have too much time on their hands (2:45 pm)_  

 _Oh my god did you kiss him??_  
_Isn’t that going a bit far?_  
_Didn’t you say that there were rules about that? (3:08 pm)_

 _I mean, I guess it’s like, preserving the fiction, but…_  
_I just want you to be careful. (3:09 pm)_

_Oh man, your fans are going bonkers. (3:27 pm)_

_THIS PIC OMG (link) (3:32 pm)_

 

Yuuri sighed, clicking the link in the last text.

It was a picture of him and Victor on the roof of St. Isaac’s. Yuuri’s face was upturned, his eyes half-lidded, his gaze very obviously resting on Victor’s lips. Victor’s body was very close to his, his gaze soft, his thumb on Yuuri’s lower lip. It looked like the prelude to a kiss.

Yuuri gulped, clicking on the other link that Phichit had sent: a shot of the two of them staring up at the dome, holding hands. It had been taken from far away, their bodies mostly silhouettes. 

Yuuri switched back to the texting app.

_He didn’t kiss me. (4:10 pm)_

Yuuri hesitated a moment. If he couldn’t tell Phichit, though, who could he tell?

 _But I wish he had._  
_I really wanted him to._ _(4:11 pm)_

The response was almost immediate.

 _I realized that he probably hadn’t, or there would_ _have been pics of that too._  
_But Yuuri, like… geez, are you falling for him?_  
_You CAN’T. You know you can’t. (4:12 pm)_

_I’m not. (4:12 pm)_

_Ugh, you so are. Dammit. You poor boy. (4:13 pm)_

_Shut up. (4:13 pm)_

_Telling me to shut up doesn’t change facts. (4:14 pm)_

_We’re at dinner, I’ll text you later. (4:14 pm)_

 

Yuuri exited the texting app on his phone and threw it in his pocket. Victor looked up at him curiously. 

“You’re right, we’re all over Instagram and Twitter. We even have our own hashtag. Nadiya must be pleased.” 

Victor grinned. “What is it?” 

“Victuuri,” Yuuri winced. “Like our two names combined, but also the word ‘victory.’”

Victor cocked his head. “That’s kind of cute. I think I’d like Yurtor more.”

Yuuri snorted. “ _Yurtor_? That’s awful.”

They were both giggling when the waitress came to take their drink orders.

“So what’s good here food-wise?” Yuuri asked, picking up his menu.

“The bouillabaise is fantastic. I also love the beef bourguignon, but it’s a bit heavy.” 

Yuuri nodded, looking over the options as he ignored the continued buzzing from his phone.

 

 

* * *

Later, bellies full, they took the car back to the apartment. Yuuri was bone-tired, and as he started to doze off, his head fell onto Victor’s shoulder. Victor slung his arm around Yuuri’s body, pulling him closer. 

Yuuri felt warm and content. It had been a lovely day overall, almost like a real date. His rational mind told him that it wasn’t, but with his body tucked close to Victor’s, he let himself imagine that Victor’s affection was genuine. As he was drifting, he just might have felt the tip of Victor’s nose in his hair. 

Then, like an unwelcome pest, Phichit’s text floated through his mind. _You’re falling for him aren’t you?_  

Yuuri started, pulling out of Victor’s arms and moving over to the other edge of the car, putting as much distance between them as possible.

“Yuuri, are you alright?” Victor seemed perplexed, and little worried. 

“I’m. I’m fine. Just suddenly thought I left my skates at the rink, but I remember now… I put them in my bag.”

Victor didn’t look convinced, but Yuuri was saved from further interrogation by the fact that their car arrived at his apartment. 

They shouldered their way through the newly-feverish paparazzi, and took the elevator up to the top floor.

When they opened the door, however, Makkachin didn’t greet them at the door like usual. There was a smell of something cooking, like… beets.

“ _Mama_ ,” Victor said, stopping short right inside of the door and dropping his bag. 

“Vitya, darling.” A petite woman in her fifties stood up gracefully from the couch, and Makkachin barked at them from his spot near her. She was wearing stylish and well-fitted white clothes, including a beautiful blue scarf tied with a little brooch. Yuuri had always assumed Victor’s hair was dyed, but here was proof in the flesh that it wasn’t: his mother’s hair was that same stunning, shining silver, pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her features were delicate, and Yuuri could definitely see where Victor got his looks from. There was one thing that was different about her from Victor, however; her eyes were a deep brown rather than blue.

“Я не думал, что приедешь так скоро.”[1] Victor scowled.

“I know dear, but you kept putting me off, saying ‘later, later,’ and never telling me when I can meet my new son-in-law.” Yuuri noted that she had refused to switch to Russian for his benefit, which he appreciated, but it did little to calm his nerves.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, not yet, maybe not at all. Yuuri hadn’t prepared himself to meet Victor’s family. He would have asked Victor to make sure their stories about the relationship lined up, to ask him more about his mother and father... 

The woman kissed Victor on each cheek, squeezing his arm. “Hello my darling.”

“Mama,” Victor said grudgingly.

She turned toward Yuuri, taking both his hands and kissing him on each cheek as well. “Yuuri,” she said, smiling warmly.

“N—nice to meet you, Mrs. Nikiforov,” Yuuri stuttered.

“Oh, it's Nikiforova, but call me Inessa,” she said, still smiling. “Victor, you told me he was handsome, but your description didn’t do him justice.” 

Yuuri ducked his head, embarrassed, and Victor coughed.

“I made borscht, by the way,” she said, gesturing toward the kitchen, changing the topic the way parents did, as if she hadn’t just made both of them sublimely uncomfortable.

“We already ate,” Victor said, helping Yuuri out of his coat. He stopped as he hung up his own coat, staring at an unfamiliar suitcase by the door. “Where are you staying?” he asked slowly. 

“Here, of course.”

“Mama, _no_ ,” Victor looked horrified, and Yuuri felt his stomach drop out. 

“It’s just for one night, darling, I have to fly to Paris tomorrow. I hate to trouble you, but I have so little time to see you, and you have that extra room, after all.” She looked at him with the kind of eyes that Victor would use when he wanted someone to do something, and Yuuri realized how the Nikiforovs always got their way.

“I… we can’t, there’s—” Victor’s eyes flashed to meet Yuuri’s. Yuuri must have looked like a panicked animal, because Victor took his arm and led him toward the bedrooms.

“We just have to move some things from that room, we’ll be back once we have done that, okay?” 

“Okay,” Inessa said, watching them curiously as they retreated.

Victor pulled him into Yuuri’s room and shut the door. 

“I’ll force her to go to a hotel,” Victor said, his voice hushed. 

“We can’t do that, she’s your mother.” Yuuri clenched his hands into fists at his sides to keep them from trembling. 

Victor ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. “I could just tell her the truth.”

“No, you can’t. Remember what Nadiya said?”

Victor stopped pacing, biting his lip. “We’d have to sleep in the same bed.”

Yuuri nodded with more confidence than he felt. “Yeah.”

“Are you… comfortable with that?”

“You have a king, right? I wouldn’t crowd you or anything. It’d be fine.” _Oh my god, am I actually trying to convince Victor that we should sleep in the same bed?_ It was a horrible idea for so many reasons.

Victor stepped closer, taking Yuuri’s hands. “That’s not even an issue to me. Are _you_ okay with it?” 

Yuuri realized what he was asking; remembering how Victor had told him on that first day that he wouldn’t do anything Yuuri wasn’t comfortable with. It felt like a lifetime ago already. 

Yuuri squeezed his hands. “I’ll be fine. Really.” 

Victor held his gaze for a moment longer, and then he nodded once, decisively. “Thankfully Anna changed the sheets and made the bed in here today, so we can just move your clothes into my room and hope my mother doesn’t notice.”

Yuuri glanced around the room. There were a few clothes strewn about and the new clothes in the closet, but most of his stuff was still in his suitcase. 

“Okay, I’ll pack up and move my stuff into your room, and you just… go talk to her, distract her, okay?” 

Victor nodded again, his eyes stormy. “Are you sure about this?” 

 _No, not even a little bit_. “Yes,” he said aloud.

Victor watched him for a moment longer, but apparently he was satisfied with the answer. He went to the door, stopping with his hand on the handle. “It’s only for one night,” he said.

“I know.”

Victor left, and Yuuri immediately packed up as quickly as possible, remembering to take his toothbrush and soap from the bathroom. He was still shaking a little bit, but that was to be expected. He thought about the Xanax in the bottom of his suitcase; they were good for when he was actually having a panic attack, but he hated using them unless he truly needed to. He felt like he was still in control, so he decided to leave them. 

Once Yuuri had all his clothes packed up and had grabbed the new clothes from the closet on their hangers, he glanced around the room once more to make sure he had everything. He walked over to the bedside table and unplugged his phone charger, and dragged his suitcase over to the door, opening it a crack.

Peeking his head out, he could see Victor facing his direction on the couch, Inessa with her back to Yuuri. Victor was telling her a story, gesturing with his hands to keep her attention. Yuuri moved quickly across the hall and closed the door once he was safely inside Victor’s room. 

Yuuri put his new clothes in the closet and the rest on the chair. He’d have to organize it all later. He was beginning to think his heart couldn’t take this whole “being married to Victor Nikiforov” thing. Yuuri sighed, running his hand through his hair, before going back out to the living room. 

Victor and Inessa were in the kitchen now, and Victor was pouring an expensive-looking red wine into glasses. The sleeves of Victor’s long-sleeved navy v-neck were pushed up, and he looked delectable. 

Victor’s face lit up when he saw Yuuri, and Yuuri’s heart did a little flip flop in his chest. Victor walked around the kitchen island and took Yuuri’s hands, kissing the back of each one.

“Everything squared away?” he asked quietly.

Yuuri nodded, trying to keep his blush under control. Inessa was watching them with a very fond expression, holding her wine glass.

“Do you want some wine?” Victor asked in a normal voice. 

“I guess,”Yuuri said, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“There’s borscht too, if you’re still hungry.” Inessa smiled widely, her red lips parting to reveal pearly white teeth.

“Not right now, but thank you.” Yuuri followed Victor around the island, and Victor poured him a glass of the cabernet. 

“So tell me about yourself, Yuuri.” Inessa sat down at one of the kitchen island chairs, swirling her wine glass.

“I… um.” Victor pulled him closer, leaving his arm around Yuuri’s waist.

“I’m nothing special,” Yuuri mumbled, taking a long swig of his wine. He hated talking about himself, even though he knew he was supposed to be acting like her son-in-law.

“Don’t be so modest,” Victor said, planting a kiss on Yuuri’s temple. It was something a husband would surely do, and yet Victor’s lips on his skin felt like a hot brand.

“He’s the best figure skater in Japan, and he qualified for the Grand Prix Final this year. I’m going to make sure he takes first at the Japanese Nationals to qualify for World Championships, so I can fight with him for the gold medal.” 

“Victor,” Yuuri mumbled, turning into Victor’s shoulder to hide his face.

“That’s fantastic. I should have realized that Victor would only choose to marry someone on his level.” Inessa winked at him. 

 _I’m nowhere close to Victor’s level_ , Yuuri thought, but he forced himself to smile. 

“Yuuri also does ballet,” Victor said proudly. 

“Ballet?” Inessa perked up at that.

“Yeah, well. Mostly just for training, but I have been dancing since I was really little.”

“Mama was a prima ballerina for the Russian ballet.” Victor poured himself a little more wine. 

Yuuri couldn’t hide his surprise. “Wow, really?”

“Not really a _prima,_ ” Inessa said, waving her hand.

Victor rolled his eyes. “She danced the lead in _Giselle_ for sold out crowds two seasons in a row,” he said. 

Inessa smiled. “I was better in Swan Lake.”

“She’s humble, too,” Yuuri said, raising his glass to her. The wine and Victor’s proximity had an intoxicating effect, and he was starting to feel a little less self-conscious.

Inessa laughed, her sapphire earrings twinkling in the light. “I like him,” she said to Victor.

Victor looked down at Yuuri, his lips curling upward. “Me, too,” he said.

Yuuri blushed again, looking down into his glass. “What about your father? What does he do?” he asked, changing the subject. 

Inessa raised her eyebrows at Victor. “You mean you haven’t told him?” 

“I… it didn’t seem like he needed to know,” Victor said, wincing. 

“Vitya, he’s your husband!”

“What?” Yuuri looked back and forth between them. 

Inessa said something to Victor in Russian, and Victor sighed, nodding. 

“Victor’s father was a famous Soviet hockey player,” Inessa said. “Have you heard of the Miracle on Ice? That’s what the Americans call it, anyway.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri nodded. “I’ve seen the movie _Miracle_ , anyway.”

Inessa nodded. “Yes, well. Volodya was on the Soviet team for years, and he was in the olympics that year. He scored the first goal in that game, if I remember correctly. I didn’t know him then, he was only nineteen. He was in the NHL in America for a while—the first one to move over there when the Soviet Union started to be more… open. He coaches the Russian national team now.” 

“Wow,” Yuuri looked up at Victor, realizing that Victor had the perfect amalgam of genetics: ice from his father, grace from his mother. 

“No wonder you’re the best ice skater the world has ever seen,” Yuuri said honestly. 

“Yuuuuuuri,” Victor looked abashed, and he tucked his face into Yuuri’s neck.

 

 

* * *

Once Inessa force-fed them some borscht—which was, actually, very good—and she retired to her room for the evening, Yuuri, Victor, and Makkachin went to Victor’s room.

Yuuri lay on the bed to check his phone as Victor showered.

There were a couple of texts from Mari, asking him how training was going, which he decided to reply to the next day when she’d be awake.

Phichit had texted several more times after he’d thrown his phone in his bag. He mentally counted backward, thinking about what time it was in Detroit. He sighed, thinking he might as well pull off the band-aid. 

_I’m just trying to make sure you don’t get in too deep. (4:15 pm)_

_If you fall for him, you’re just going to be heartbroken later._  
_He told you that this is just for his career, right? (4:16 pm)_

_So you’re ignoring me. (5:30 pm)_

_You can’t ignore the voice of reason forever you know,_  
_it never works in the movies(5:45 pm)_

Yuuri frowned, looking at the texts. _I wasn’t ignoring you_ , he started to write, but it was a lie, so he deleted it.

 _I’m sorry, I know. You’re right._  
_It’s just… so hard. (9:20 pm)_

Phichit was always near his phone, and he replied immediately.

 _I know. You’re falling for someone who doesn’t_  
_feel the same way about you. Of course it’s hard. (9:21 pm)_

  _I have a crush, that’s all._  
_I’ve had a crush on him for a million years,_  
_you said it before. It’s nothing new. (9:22 pm)_

 _It’s different._  
_Now, you actually have to live with him,_  
_and he’s pretending to love you. (9:22 pm)_

Yuuri sighed again, looking at the closed bathroom door. It was the truth. Phichit always had a way with words that Yuuri didn’t.

 _There’s nothing I can do about it for now._  
_I’ll just_ _have to try and keep my distance a little more._  
_Though it’s going to be hard to do that physically._  
_I’m actually in his bed right now. (9:23 pm)_

 _WHAT???????_  
_ARE YOU SERIOUS_  
_Yuuri did you have sex with him??????_  
_I can’t believe you let me ramble on_  
_for so long before telling me this (9:23 pm)_

 _No! his mom is staying over and she had to_  
_stay in “my” room so I’m sharing Victor’s bed._  
_It’s no big deal(9:24 pm)_

_Um. I beg to differ. It’s a big deal. (9:24 pm)_

_Phichit. (9:24 pm)_

_No, no. It’s cool, have fun sleeping PLATONICALLY_ _with the EXTREMELY HOT_  
_man that you have tons of posters of in our room, that you’re now married to_  
_Wtf did I do wrong in my life, never mind, have sex with him, why the hell not (9:25)_

_Now you’re just being ridiculous. (9:25 pm)_

_XD_  
_I have to go_  
_Ciao Ciao is yelling at me to work on my quad loop..._  
_*sigh* I want more deets tomorrow, okay? (9:26 pm)_  

_Will do. Ttyl. (9:26 pm)_

_Bye bestie :* (9:27 pm)_

Victor emerged from the shower in a cloud of steam, a towel around his hips and his hair slicked back. Yuuri was forcibly reminded of the first morning they had been together. He tried not to look, but he couldn’t stop himself from imagining licking the beads of water off of Victor’s pecs and abs, of sliding his tongue lower… 

“You need to use the bathroom?” Victor was hovering at the door, his hand on the light.

Yuuri jumped up from the bed. “Yeah, I’ll just brush my teeth,” he said, rummaging through his suitcase until he found his toothpaste and face wash.

When he emerged from the bathroom after getting himself sorted, Victor was sitting in bed reading a book, with Makkachin at his feet. He glanced up when Yuuri entered and smiled tentatively.

Yuuri sniffled, shifting from foot to foot.

“Come on, I won’t bite,” Victor said, patting the bed. “Hard.” 

Yuuri snorted, padding over to the bed and sitting down on the edge. He plugged his phone into the wall and set an alarm.

Victor closed his book and set it on his bedside table. “I’m sorry about this.” 

Yuuri shrugged, turning toward him. “It’s fine. It’s a big bed, after all.”

Victor sighed. “My mother is a force to be reckoned with.”

“I’ll say,” Yuuri chuckled, turning off his light and lying down on his side.

Victor shut off his light as well and settled down on his side of the bed, turning toward Yuuri. The moonlight was coming in through the window behind him, and Victor’s face was in shadow, but his hair was highlighted, and his fingers were light on the covers beside them. It was like a study in chiaroscuro.

“Yuuri." 

Yuuri blinked, realizing he’d been staring. “Yeah?”

“I…” Yuuri could just barely see Victor press his lips together. 

Suddenly Yuuri was extremely aware of the fact that he was in _bed_ with _Victor_. Over the past few days, they had become close, and Victor had been flirting with him so much that he was keyed up beyond measure. He couldn’t even close himself in his own room and work out the frustration. Instead, the object of his… well, Eros… was only a foot away from him, but he was untouchable. 

Yuuri yearned, like he’d never yearned before in his life, to close the distance between them and kiss Victor, but he knew he never could. 

Yuuri swallowed. “Goodnight, Victor.” 

“Goodnight.” Victor turned over, closing himself off. Yuuri stared at his back for a long time before he finally drifted off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> [1]Я не думал, что приедешь так скоро = "You weren't supposed to come so soon."
> 
> Notes:
> 
> I decided to base Victor’s dad off of Vladimir Krutov, who scored the first goal in the 1980 Olympics “Miracle on Ice” game against the US. He does really have a son, but the son is an ice hockey player, not a figure skater (ALLEGEDLY!). He was one of the first soviets to play for the NHL and coached for a while afterward. Vlad/Papa Nikiforov was always disappointed that Victor didn’t become a hockey player too.
> 
> Also, ten days is probably a very short amount of time to learn a new short program… but Yuuri did learn it in like a week in the canon, so. I figured this was about reasonable.
> 
> I might not be able to post on time next week due to a death in my family, but I'll do my best. I have mostly written the chapter already.


	4. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri has an important realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to longhornletters for being a ride or die bitch. I mean that in the best way possible.

 

When Yuuri woke up the next morning, Victor was no longer in bed. Yuuri blinked sleepily, smoothing his hand over the spot where Victor had been lying, disappointment washing over him. He wished that this one time, he could have woken up next to Victor.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, Victor walked back into the bedroom, cheeks pink from the cold. He was wearing Yuuri’s hat, which made Yuuri’s heart squeeze in his chest.

“It’s freezing today,” Victor said, shucking his gloves. “Makka could only be out there for a little bit. My toes are frozen.”

Yuuri sat up, putting on his glasses. “I guess I shouldn’t run to the rink today then.”

Victor shuddered. “I wouldn’t.”

He took off his coat and got back into bed, scooting close to Yuuri. When his toes brushed Yuuri’s leg, they were like icicles.

“Oh my god, get off!” Yuuri laughed. “I’m not your hot water bottle.”

“I’m freezing,” Victor whined. “Don’t be cruel, I need body heat.” He pulled Yuuri closer and pushed his cold face into Yuuri’s neck.

Yuuri sighed, giving in. He pulled the covers over them and Victor hummed contentedly.

“You know, you could probably pay someone to walk Makka for you,” Yuuri pointed out. “Since you hate the cold so much.”

Victor shook his head. “I barely get to see him as it is. I love our walks. When it’s not this cold, anyway.” Victor sighed, settling into Yuuri’s side.

“You wore my hat.”

Victor opened one eye, looking up at him. “That okay?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. “Looks good on you.”

Victor’s grin was lopsided as he pulled the hat more snugly around his ears. He closed his eyes again.

Yuuri poked him gently. “Don’t go back to sleep. We have to get to practice.”

“Mmm not sleeping,” Victor said, burrowing deeper into the blankets.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Okay, you can stay here if you want, but I’m going to get breakfast.”

Victor made a noise of protest, but Yuuri got out of bed anyway. He walked over to the closet to get dressed, taking off his sleep shirt as he walked. He glanced over his shoulder to see Victor peeking over the comforter, watching him, but his head quickly disappeared again.

Once Yuuri was dressed, he walked out to the kitchen. Inessa was sitting on the couch in a robe, reading the newspaper and sipping black coffee.

“Morning, Yuuri!” she said, eyes bright.

“Morning.” Yuuri walked around the island to put on some hot water for his tea.

“Where’s Vitya?"

“Back in bed.”

Inessa rolled her eyes. “Typical.”

Yuuri wanted to ask why that was typical, but he realized he should probably know that as Victor’s husband. He fixed two bowls of oatmeal (one for himself, one for Victor) and started checking his emails as he ate.

Victor emerged a few minutes later, greeting his mother and kissing Yuuri on the temple as he passed by. Yuuri ducked his head, trying not to show that he was surprised by it.

“I made you some oatmeal.” Yuuri waved his spoon at the other bowl.

“Oh, thanks.” Victor grabbed a spoon from the drawer and sat down, tucking in.

“It looks like snow’s coming in this afternoon,” Yuuri noted, looking at his weather app.

“Oh dear, I hope it doesn’t interfere with my flight.” Inessa picked up her phone and started scrolling through it.

“What time are you supposed to be at the airport?” Victor asked.

“Not until seven, my flight is at nine.”

“After practice, I’ll come back here and we can go out to see some sights, okay? Yuuri will be at ballet in the afternoon.”

Inessa pouted a little. “Can’t Yuuri come too? I want to get to know my son-in-law better.”

“Sorry, Mrs.—I mean, Inessa. I really can’t skip my afternoon workout again, not after missing it yesterday,” Yuuri said. “But I hope to see you more when you visit again.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Inessa said, smiling widely at him.

Yuuri smiled back, finishing up his oatmeal. He was definitely getting better at lying.

 

* * *

Yuuri bent over, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his forehead onto the ice. His feet were surely going to start bleeding through his skates at any moment, and his trembling legs weren’t going to last through another day.

Victor was sitting against the wall with his arms crossed. He had been watching Yuuri do the Eros routine all morning, hardly giving any notes, just having him run through it again and again and again.

“You haven’t been thinking about it,” Victor said.

Yuuri slowly straightened. “What?”

“Your Eros. Katsudon, I think it was?”

He was right; Yuuri had very definitely _not_ been thinking about katsudon. He’d also been trying desperately not to think about how much he wanted to push Victor into the boards and kiss him senseless.

“No,” Yuuri said tiredly.

Victor skated over to him, moving into his personal space. “Remember how I told you I wanted to see the fire inside you?”

“I… um. Er. Yes.” Yuuri couldn’t formulate full sentences with Victor so close.

“Start at the beginning.” Victor leaned in, slowly, until his mouth was next to Yuuri’s ear. “And this time, skate like you’re trying to seduce me.”

“I…” Yuuri shivered. He caught a hint of Victor’s shampoo… it smelled like peppermint.

“Go.” Victor pushed him away. Yuuri gritted his teeth, trying to keep his composure. He skated out to center ice again and settled into the starting pose.

Victor restarted the music, and Yuuri twirled his arms around himself, stomping his foot in front. He launched into the step sequence, whirling and dancing.

“Think about the juiciness of the pork. The softness of the egg!” Victor called out.

Yuuri flinched. “Got it,” he said.

As he twisted through the step sequence, he tried to be enthralling, to drip with sexuality like Victor always seemed to on the ice.

Halfway through it, Victor stopped him with just a clap of his hands.

Yuuri panted, bending over.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Victor said, frowning. “Let’s run through your free skate.”

There was a bitter, metallic taste in Yuuri’s mouth. He was disappointing Victor, and he couldn’t seem to figure out what he was doing wrong.

 

 

* * *

When they got back to the apartment, Yuuri dropped his skating bag on the floor in the entryway with a lot more force than was necessary. Victor touched his shoulder gently before hanging up his coat.

“How was practice?” Inessa walked into the living room, clothed in a chic navy blue dress with white piping and a matching scarf.

“Hi, мамочка,”[1] Victor said, kissing her on the cheek. “Did you have a nice morning?”

“Yes, dear.” Inessa smiled. “I went down to the used bookstore on the corner. I found a first edition of Crime and Punishment.”

“Ugh, Dostoyevsky. So dry.” Victor scrunched up his nose. “I’m going to go shower and then we can get going.”

“Alright, darling, I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

Yuuri walked into the kitchen and poured himself some orange juice, downing most of it in one go. He leaned against the counter, his chest caving in slightly, trying to fight back the urge to cry. He wasn’t sure he was even going to make it to ballet; his whole body ached. Especially his heart.

“You don’t seem like a happy honeymooner right now.”

Yuuri’s head snapped up.

“I… what?” He gripped his juice glass tightly.

_Has she noticed? Have I given it away somehow? She knows we aren’t married for real, oh god, it’s all my fault..._

Inessa’s dark eyes flicked to Yuuri’s trembling hand, then back to his face. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean anything by it, котенок.[2] I was just saying you seem stressed. Is it the competition? Your nationals are only in a few days, right?”

“He—he told you?”

“Oh, yes, Victor has told me a lot about you.” Inessa’s smile was disarming, just like Victor’s. Yuuri felt himself relax a little, his shoulders slumping.

“Um. Yeah,” Yuuri said. “It’s just... can’t seem to get my short program quite right, and I don’t know what to do. Victor is pushing me to do my best, and I really want to make him proud.”

Inessa sat down at the kitchen counter and patted the seat next to her. “Tell me everything, chéri. Victor is good at skating, of course, but not so good at talking things through.”

Yuuri thought about refusing, but he was down to his last rope. Talking about it with someone other than Victor might help.

He sat down, setting his glass on the counter. “Okay, so… my short program has a Spanish influence. It’s inspired by Eros, sexual love.”

Inessa smirked, a glint in her eye.

Yuuri swallowed before he continued. “I came up with a story for it in my head: I’m a playboy that came to a town and tried to seduce the most beautiful woman there, eventually wearing her down until she gave in. But it doesn’t seem to be pleasing Victor. I have all the steps down and I’m almost there with the jumps, but he thinks that something is missing.”

He didn’t tell her that Victor had told him to find his Eros, because she obviously would be confused by that. After all, he and Victor were supposed to be in the middle of their honeymoon glow.

“I think part of the problem is that I’m trying to be the playboy… but that’s not me. Not really,” he continued. _That’s Victor_ , he thought. _He’s the playboy._

Yuuri chewed his lip, massaging the bottom of one of his aching feet.

Inessa nodded. “Maybe you should be the seductress instead. The woman who makes the playboy fall for her.”

Something about that made a small thrill run down Yuuri’s spine. “That’s… not a terrible idea.”

Inessa snorted. “Of course it isn’t. I don’t like wasting breath with bad ideas.”

“But how would I learn to move like a woman?”

Inessa cocked her head to the side. “Well, now. There’s where I can help.”

Yuuri stopped massaging his foot. What?”

“I’m going to join you at the studio.”

Yuuri blinked at her until Inessa pushed him off his chair. “Go get your bag.”

Victor emerged from his room, looking fresh, his hair clean. “Okay, mama, where would you like to spend the afternoon? It’s starting to snow, so we should get going. Maybe a walk in the park and then shopping?”

“I’m not going with you, dear.” Inessa jumped up off her seat with surprising nimbleness and patted his cheek. “I’m going to the studio with Yuuri.”

Victor blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I’m going to help him this afternoon. I think he needs a little _prima_ touch.”

Victor gaped at her. “What am I supposed to do then?”

“I don’t know, take up knitting or something.” She grinned at his astonished expression. “Go on Yuuri, grab your ballet things.”

Yuuri nodded, scurrying to get his bag, making sure that all his things were inside.

“I can’t believe you two are abandoning me,” Victor said, following Yuuri. His lips were turned downward in a pout.

“You’ll live. Go take Makka for a walk.” Inessa walked over to the coats and started putting hers on.

“But Yuuuuuri,” Victor whined.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Yuuri said, standing up and putting his ballet bag on his shoulder.

Inessa was watching them expectantly, and Yuuri realized he should do something husband-y before he left, so he stood up on his toes and pecked Victor on the cheek. Victor flushed, his eyes wide, and he touched his cheek where Yuuri’s lips had been.

Yuuri smiled, walking over to Inessa.

“Он действительно тебя любит. Я вижу, как он смотрит на тебя,”[3] Inessa said to Victor, who flushed even more deeply. Yuuri had never wished more than he had at that moment that he spoke Russian.

 

 

* * *

When they arrived at the studio, Yuri Plisetsky was already warming up.

“You’re late, Piggy,” he spat out, glaring at Yuuri. He sure seemed to glare a lot for a fourteen-year-old.

“I’m not in the mood.” Yuuri sat down on the ground and started to pull his shoes out of his bag.

Yuri looked at him with surprise, but he just kept doing his exercises.

The severe-looking ballet instructor, Lilia, who had never smiled in the entire time Yuuri had been in Russia, grinned broadly when she saw Inessa. The two of them embraced and started chattering away in Russian.

“Who’s that?” Yuri lifted his chin toward them.

“Inessa, Victor’s mom,” Yuuri said, pulling on his ballet shoes.

Lilia laughed, and she gestured toward Yuuri, saying something in Russian.

“She said you have good technique and you work hard, but that your mind seems to be somewhere else a lot of the time,” Yuri said out of the side of his mouth.

Yuuri tensed. “Thanks,” he said.

Lilia clapped at Yuri. He started going through more warm-ups in the middle of the room at her direction.

Inessa walked over to Yuuri, beaming.

“I’m guessing you know her?” Yuuri said.

“She was in the Russian Ballet with me, yes. I told her I’m going to help you today, and she’s going to work with little Yuri.”

“Don’t let him catch you calling him ‘little Yuri,’ he might froth at the mouth.” Yuuri stood up and started doing his initial warm-ups.

Inessa tapped her finger against her mouth, exactly the way Victor did when he was contemplating something. “We will have to come up with some kind of nickname for him, though, because otherwise it will just be confusing.”

“In Japanese, we might call him ‘Yurio’,” Yuuri said.

“Yurio! That’s it!” Inessa said brightly.

“What? No!” Yuri turned and growled at them.

“Go back to your training, Yurio.” Inessa grinned at him.

“I won’t respond to that name!”

Inessa laughed. “Okay, Yuuri, let’s get you properly warmed up.”

Once Yuuri had done his warm-ups, Inessa had him come to the center of the room.

“Okay, now show me the movements you do when you’re going through the program. Obviously it’s going to look different than on the ice, but do your best.” 

Yuuri nodded, and he settled into the starting pose.

“No, no, no,” Inessa said, shaking her head.

“I haven’t even done anything yet!” Yuuri protested.

“You’re standing like a man.”

“I…” Yuuri looked down at his body. “I am?”

Inessa stood next to him, facing the mirror. “Men stand with their hips square and their chest out. A woman tilts her hips more. Like this.”

She mimicked his starting pose, but then tilted her pelvis a little and pulled one shoulder back.

Yuuri tried to emulate the pose as best he could. Inessa tsked, moving behind him to manipulate his body the way she wanted.

“There,” she said, pointing at the mirror. “See?”

Yuuri nodded, seeing what she meant. It was different; more feminine than before.

“Okay, now show me the first movements with your arms.”

Yuuri twisted his arms around himself in the first part of the step sequence. Inessa had him stop, and she repeated the movement, showing him how to make it more womanly. They repeated the pattern with every part of the step sequence. Each time, she made him watch her and then himself in the mirror. Slowly, after a long few hours of work, he started to see the difference.

As the sun started to go down, Yuuri stared at himself in the mirror, his shirt soaked with sweat.Twirling his arms around himself, he realized the other problem: he had been afraid to seduce Victor with his skating.

That was what he had to do. In order to truly tap into his Eros, Yuuri had to become the femme fatale that enthralled men—especially Victor. He watched himself in the mirror as he did the flicking motion with his hands that led into the spread eagle, and he knew he finally had it.

“That’s it! Perfect!” Inessa clapped.

“Should I run it one more time before we go?” Yuuri walked back over to his starting position.

“Yes, and then I think we should probably get home. The snow seems to be picking up out there.”

Yuuri ran through the moves one more time, imagining that he was dancing for Victor, that Victor was watching him—that Victor _wanted_ him. At the end, Inessa nodded, looking pleased. “I think Victor will be happy with it,” she said, smiling.

 

* * *

When they got home, Victor was reclining on the couch with Makkachin draped over him. His head poked up when they arrived, his hair mussed.

“Good practice?” he asked.

“Great practice,” Yuuri said. “Did you take a nap?”

“Wasn’t much else to do around here,” Victor grumbled.

Feeling bold, Yuuri walked over and brushed his hand through Victor’s hair. Victor blinked up at him, his eyes sleepy.

“Your hair is always messy after you sleep,” Yuuri said, leaning against the back of the couch and grinning down at him. “It’s cute.”

He ran his fingers through Victor’s hair again, trailing his finger down his cheek. Victor’s eyes widened.

“What’s gotten into you?” he breathed.

Yuuri waggled his eyebrows. “I just feel really good about the Eros routine now.”

“I can’t wait to see it."

Yuuri looked at him fondly, noting how soft he was after he woke up. He had a sudden desire to cuddle with him on the couch.

Inessa was looking at her phone. “Oh dear, my flight was cancelled.”

Victor sat straight up, breaking the moment. “What?”

“Oh, Vitya, it’s not that bad. I’ll just spend one more night and I’ll be able to fly out tomorrow.”

“But Мамочка...” Victor whined, looking panicked. “Yuuri and I, we… we need privacy. Maybe you should go to a hotel.”

“Ah, I see, the honeymoon effect.” Inessa walked over and patted Victor’s cheek, which was starting to turn pink. “I understand, your father and I were the same when we first got married. But don’t worry, I didn’t hear anything last night, I have ear plugs. I’ll use them again tonight.”

“ _Mama_ ,” Victor said, his eyes wide. “We—we didn’t—we wouldn’t—”

“Don’t worry Vitya, I know how it goes. I’m not a prude.” Inessa winked at Yuuri, who felt like he was going to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Oh my god,” Victor said, pressing his hands into his face.

“Shall we go out to dinner, then? Or just order in, since the weather is setting in?” Inessa asked Yuuri, smiling, as if she hadn’t just implied they were going to have loud sex all night.

“I… um. I’ll go shower,” Yuuri said, scurrying off down the hall. He almost walked into the guest room before he remembered that it was no longer “his.” Glancing over his shoulder, he turned on his heel, walking the other direction into Victor’s room.

 

 

* * *

The inclement weather was apparently enough to clear out the paparazzi, so they weren’t bothered as they left the apartment building. Victor had insisted that Yuuri bundle up tightly despite the fact that they weren’t going far, and Yuuri was glad that he did. As they walked, the the winds picked up and the snow felt like icicles pummeling the small amount of exposed skin on his face.

Inessa chattered away about various family members as they walked into the small family restaurant across the street. She kept talking as they sat down, pausing only as the waiter took their drink orders (wine for Victor and Inessa, water for Yuuri).

When the waiter came back with the wine, Inessa was talking about Victor’s cousin, who recently had a baby.

“You know, Sasha is getting so big, I just can’t believe it. Every time I see him he seems to triple in size. Mischa and Anya are so happy, you should visit them soon. When are you two going to give me grandchildren?” she said all in one breath.

Yuuri choked on his water, and Victor flushed deeply. He picked up his wine glass and took a long drink. “Not for a while,” he said.

“Why not?” She pouted.

“Because we both have careers that take us away from home for long periods of time. It will be a while before we can even think about having a family.”

Victor did not meet Yuuri’s eyes, and Yuuri fidgeted with his napkin. It wasn’t an unexpected question from a mother-in-law; he should have been prepared for it.

“Would you adopt, or get a surrogate?” Inessa asked.

“I—I don’t know, we haven’t really talked about it yet,” Victor stuttered. “I don’t even know if Yuuri wants children.”

“I do,” Yuuri blurted out. “I want some eventually.”

“You do?” Victor looked at him, his eyes sharp.

Yuuri wished he hadn’t said anything. It wasn’t exactly like Victor needed to know this. “I... ah. Yeah. I have always wanted to have a family. Maybe a boy and a girl.”

“You _have_ thought about this,” Inessa said.

Victor was still watching Yuuri, an inscrutable expression on his face.

“What?” Yuuri asked, bumping Victor’s shoulder with his own..

“I… nothing.” Victor dropped his gaze and poured more wine in his glass.

“Maybe once you both retire,” Inessa suggested.

“Maybe,” Victor said. For the rest of the meal, his eyes flicked to Yuuri every once in a while. Yuuri didn’t know what to make of it.

 

 

* * *

By the time they got back to the apartment, Inessa was healthily buzzed and suggesting baby names.

“Now, I have always loved Galina for a girl,” she said, putting her purse down. “But I also love Maya. Oh, what if you had two girls! But then you’d have to have two boys, too, because otherwise they would gang up on the boy.”

“Okayyyy, time for bed.” Victor ushered her toward her bedroom.

“Oh, Vitya. I’m so looking forward to having all four of my grandchildren come to the summer house on the shore.”

“Yes, mama,” Victor said, sounding resigned. “What time is your new flight?”

“It’s at noon. I’ll see you off to your morning practice and then I’ll be on my way. Goodnight, darlings.”

She kissed Victor on both cheeks and hugged Yuuri tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I haven’t seen him so happy in many years.”

“ _Mama_ ,” Victor protested.

She released Yuuri, who blinked in surprise. “It’s true. He’s been so sad. _So_ sad. And now I see the light in his eyes again.”

“I think you should go to bed,” Victor said more forcefully, pushing Inessa gently into her room.

“I won’t forget my ear plugs.” Inessa winked as she closed the door.

Seeing Victor’s exasperated face, Yuuri laughed, covering his mouth with one hand.

“She’s… enthusiastic,” Yuuri said as they walked to Victor’s room with Makkachin in their wake.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Victor mumbled, walking over to his closet and turning on the light.

Yuuri quickly put on his sleeping clothes, went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. When he came back out, Victor was lying on the bed with just sweatpants on, his palms pressed into his face.

Yuuri climbed into bed. “Not going to brush your teeth?” he asked.

Victor sighed, but he got up and went into the bathroom. Yuuri lay on his side in the bed, petting Makkachin, listening to the domestic sounds of Victor getting ready for bed. It should feel strange, like he was invading Victor’s space, but for some reason he was getting used to it.

Victor turned out the lights and came back out, sliding into bed.

“I’m… sorry,” he said, turning toward Yuuri. “It was only supposed to be one night.”

“Don’t be,” Yuuri said quickly. _I’d sleep here forever if I could,_ he didn’t say.

“She’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“I know.” Yuuri felt a small wrench in his stomach at the thought.

Victor watched him for a long moment, then reached out and cupped Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri felt his heart beating hard against his chest.

“You just keep surprising me,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

Victor smiled, but didn’t answer his question. “Goodnight, _zolotse_.”

Victor turned over. 

“Night,” Yuuri murmured.

Makkachin turned around a few times on the bed, settling at their feet. In the dim light, Yuuri stared at Victor’s back, thinking about what Inessa had said.

 _He was so sad_. _And now I see the light in his eyes again._

Victor had never seemed sad in his interviews and at competitions, but Yuuri had started to understand that Victor was very good at putting on a smiling face for the press. Sometimes, once they were out of view of the cameras, Victor’s smile dropped and he looked very tired.

It took a long time before he finally drifted off.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri woke up slowly, and he felt a warm body behind him.

He basked in the feeling for a moment, thinking it was probably Makkachin.

Then he realized that it was was definitely not Makkachin, because he could smell peppermint. Not only that, but there was an arm around his waist.

Yuuri gulped, realizing Victor’s front was pressed to his back. Victor shifted against him, making a really contented sound, and Yuuri felt a nose press into his neck.

Yuuri’s heart was pounding, and he didn’t know what to do. Victor was _spooning_ him.

“Morning,” Victor said, his voice a low rumble.

Yuuri turned over, so that at least they wouldn’t be quite so close.

When he did, however, Victor just pushed a knee between Yuuri’s thighs, and slung his arm around Yuuri’s waist again. Yuuri bit his lip, looking at the sleep-soft Victor before him.

“Morning,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor smiled, his fingers tracing up Yuuri’s spine.

“Is this okay?” Victor’s eyes were full of hope.

“Yeah,” he said, and his heart squeezed at the smile curling Victor’s lips.

They heard a door open and close, and the sound of footsteps going down the hall. Makkachin, who was still curled at the foot of the bed, perked his ears up a little.

Victor raised his head slightly, then dropped it back down. “My mother is up,” he said. He raised his free hand, brushing his fingertips across Yuuri’s forehead, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“We have to get going, get ready for practice,” Yuuri said.

“Just another minute.”

Yuuri pressed his lips together, basking in the quiet moment, but knowing it was a stolen season.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri walked into the rink with more confidence than he’d felt in ages. He felt ready to show Victor his true Eros.

They’d said goodbye to Inessa before they left (“You have to promise to come and visit me in Moscow,” she’d said. “Of course,” Yuuri replied, which had earned him a gigantic kiss) and had gone to the rink early as usual. The snowstorm had cleared, and the sun was shining down on St. Petersburg, which was now a winter wonderland.

Victor looked around as they walked to the rink, his eyes bright. “Maybe after practice we could go for a walk in the park! It’s so beautiful out.”

“What about afternoon practice?”

“Well, your Nationals are only a few days away, so you should really start resting your legs.”

“We are flying out to yours tomorrow, right?”

Victor nodded, pushing through the second set of double doors and they walked to the benches. “We are leaving in the early afternoon. My short program is day after tomorrow, then after the free skate we will head to Japan. It doesn’t make much sense to come back here in between, since we only have one travel day. Also… I was thinking we could go visit your family together after your competition.”

“Okay.” Yuuri ducked his head while he tied his skates. He wasn’t sure if he could handle that, but there was no real reason to refuse. He would definitely have to call Mari and ask her to take all of his posters down first.

Yuuri warmed up for a bit, skating around in circuits. Victor was going to do a light day, since his Nationals were around the corner, so he just watched from the sidelines.

“That should be enough,” Victor called out after about twenty minutes. “Let’s see your Eros.”

Yuuri skated to the center of the rink as Victor put the CD in the stereo. Yuuri settled into his starting pose, thinking about all Inessa had taught him.

_I am the femme fatale no man can refuse. I can seduce the international playboy. I’m the one he wants, I’m the thing he has been craving his whole life without knowing it._

As the music started, Yuuri twirled his arms around and stomped his foot out in front of himself. As he flicked his hands to the side, he winked at Victor. Victor's eyes widened.

Yuuri launched into the step sequence, flying over the ice, and Victor’s eyes on him were like a physical presence. He was the alluring temptress, seducing Victor with every movement, every tilt of his head, every sashay of his hips. He would enthrall even the most untouchable, most irresistible of men.

Yuuri finished the step sequence and flew into the camel spin with a little too much speed, but he managed to control it enough to stay upright.

The movements were coming from his body, but he had become someone else. He transcended everything he had ever done on the ice.

_I’m the one you want. I’m the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. I’m the music of a blade on ice, I’m the fire within. I’m everything you’ve ever wanted, I’m desire itself._

Yuuri twirled again, flicking his hands over his body like Inessa had showed him, and knelt, exposing his neck. He did the spread eagle into a perfect triple axel. Usually, Victor would make some kind of comment at that point, but he was unusually silent.

Yuuri let himself become the music, let the violin flow through him as he threw his arms to the side and twirled into the final pose. He stayed that way, panting, for several seconds.

There was no clapping. No compliments. Only complete silence.

Yuuri dropped his arms, turning to look at Victor.

He was leaning against the barrier, his head in his hands, and his shoulders shaking a little.

“Victor?”

Victor didn’t say anything, so Yuuri skated over. “Victor?”

Victor took a deep breath and dropped his hands. His face was flushed, his eyes glinting.

“Was it that bad?” Yuuri joked.

Victor choked out a laugh. “No.”

“Is that.... good?”

Victor pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “Good doesn’t begin to cover it.” He dropped his hands again. “It was _amazing_. What did my mother say to you?”

Yuuri beamed, leaning over the bannister to cup Victor’s elbows, bold in his elation. “She helped me realize what I had been missing. I was trying to be the playboy, but I became the seductress instead.”

“You did seem much more feminine out there, but that wasn’t the only thing that was different.”

Victor’s face was close. His eyes were searching, wandering over Yuuri’s face. “What were you thinking about?” Victor asked after a long moment.

 _You_ , Yuuri thought. _Seducing you. Making you want me._

He just smiled. “My secret. Should I run through it again?”

Victor paused for a long moment before he nodded, and Yuuri skated back out to center ice.

For the rest of practice, Victor watched him with a slightly awed expression, and Yuuri felt unstoppable.

 

 

* * *

After practice, they went back to the apartment to retrieve Makkachin and then went to the park for a walk. They wandered through the white, glittering world, Makkachin bouncing in the snow joyfully, and Yuuri felt elated. He was finally ready to go to Nationals; he was looking forward to it, even. Leading up to a competition, he used to be filled with dread, but this time the feeling was curiously absent.

“I love the way the world looks right after a snowstorm.” Victor mused, a scarf tight around his neck, breath puffing out in front of him in billowing clouds. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It really is,” Yuuri agreed. They walked over a bridge to a little pond, and Yuuri found a stick to throw for Makkachin. The dog bounded back with it, his tongue lagging, and Yuuri cooed at him before throwing it again.

“Yuuri,” Victor called out.

Yuur turned to look at him… and got a face full of snow.

“Oh my god!” Yuuri yelled, swiping it out of his face. “Victor, what the _fuck_!” Yuuri glared at him.

Victor looked distressed, walking over quickly. “Yuuri, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, forgive me.”

When he got close enough, Yuuri scooped up a ton of snow and threw it directly on Victor’s head. He laughed uproariously at the stunned expression on Victor’s face.

“Gotcha,” Yuuri said, still laughing.

Victor launched at him, pushing him to the ground and stuffing snow down his shirt.

“Ahh, Victor! No! Stop!” Yuuri yelled, but he was laughing as he wrestled with Victor.

Somehow, in their twisting, Victor ended up directly below him, and Yuuri pinned Victor’s hands by his head.

Yuuri froze. Victor blinked up at him, his silvery hair a little wet. His eyes seemed so blue in contrast with the snow, his lips pink from the cold. There were little beads of moisture caught in his eyelashes.

“Yuuri.” Victor’s breath came out in a little puff of air. He wasn’t making any move to close the distance between them, but he wasn’t pushing Yuuri off either.

A few seconds stretched out, and Victor’s gaze fell to Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri felt his pulse pick up, and Victor’s breath started coming faster. He wanted so badly to kiss Victor, consequences be damned.

Yuuri leaned in, just a little, just to see whether Victor would stop him.

He didn’t.

Instead, Victor’s eyes widened, and his hands squeezed Yuuri’s a little bit.

Before Yuuri could close the remaining distance between them, though, Makkachin bowled him over and started licking his face sloppily.

“Makka,” he laughed. He felt a surge of relief that the dog stopped him before he did anything foolish, but at the same time… he really wished he could have kissed Victor.

Victor sat up, watching him with a slightly stunned expression.

Yuuri’s glasses had been knocked askew, and he straightened them, standing up. He brushed the snow off himself and held out his hand.

Victor stared at it for a moment as if he didn’t understand, then he grabbed it and Yuuri helped him to his feet.

“Let’s go home and get warm,” Yuuri said.

 

 

* * *

Victor was really quiet the rest of the walk home, and Yuuri didn't say much either.

When they got home, Yuuri immediately went to shower. As the hot water pounded his back, Yuuri covered his face with his hands. He wasn’t going to let himself get into that position again. He wouldn’t let himself even think about kissing Victor, because it was dangerous territory. He needed to have more self-control, or everything they had agreed upon was going to fall apart.

He pressed his forehead to the tile, closing his eyes. Victor didn’t want him; he had to keep telling himself that. Yuuri had practically thrown himself at him, and Victor had been surprised, that’s all.

 _I fell too deep into my Eros persona._ _Now that I have to sleep in my own room again, I’ll be able to put more physical—and emotional—distance between us again._

Yuuri nodded to himself, turning off the shower and getting out to get dressed.

“Want some soup? I’ve heated some up,” Victor asked when Yuuri emerged.

“Sure, that sounds good."

Yuuri went over to the couch, and Makkachin immediately lay down on his lap. Yuuri scratched him behind the ears absently.

A few minutes later, Victor brought two bowls of soup to the living room. He turned on the gas fireplace and wrapped himself in a blanket.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Victor asked. “I’m still cold.”

“You are the Russian in this relationship,” Yuuri teased. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one who is used to cold?”

Victor froze halfway through drinking his soup. “Relationship?”

“I just meant of the two of us.” Yuuri drank more soup, trying to hide his face.

“Right.”

They ate the rest of their food in silence.

Once Yuuri was finished, he pushed his bowl aside. “I guess I should go back to… my room, then. We have a long day tomorrow.” Yuuri couldn’t quite meet Victor’s eyes.

“How about a movie?” Victor asked quickly.

Yuuri almost refused, but when he saw the look in Victor's eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to.

“Okay,” Yuuri agreed. A smile lit up Victor’s face as he went over to his movie collection.

“I don’t have that many English movies… how about Forgetting Sarah Marshall? The Holiday? Or maybe When Harry Met Sally?”

“Oh my god, do you only have cheesy romantic comedies?”

Victor’s nose went pink, the way it did when he was embarrassed. “Uh. I think I have Die Hard too?”

“As much as I love Die Hard, that’s a Christmas Day movie,” Yuuri said firmly. “We have to wait until then to watch it. Let’s go with Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Phichit said it’s funny.”

Victor put the DVD in the player. “How about popcorn?” He walked around the couch toward the kitchen.

“I shouldn’t,” Yuuri said regretfully.

“I have the non-buttered kind, and you can just have a handful.” Victor was already taking a bag out of a cabinet and putting it in the microwave.

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but he nodded, resigned.

Once the popcorn was done, Victor came over and wrapped himself up in the blanket again, glaring at Yuuri when he teased him for it, and started the movie.

The movie was very funny, as Phichit had said, but they didn’t end up watching much of it. Halfway through, they got involved in a game of throwing popcorn into each others’ mouths from across the couch. They weren’t very good at it, but thankfully Makkachin was happy to eat the extra pieces that fell on the ground.

“How about… if I make this one, you have to tell me something about yourself that no one else knows.” Victor held up a piece of popcorn.

“Uh. Okay?” Yuuri opened his mouth. Victor closed one eye, sticking out a little of his pink tongue as he aimed. He threw the popcorn and it sailed directly into Yuuri’s mouth.

“Uuuurahhhhh!” Victor yelled, raising his arms victoriously.

“Lucky throw,” Yuuri grumbled, chewing the popcorn.

“Okay, tell me something that no one else knows!” Victor hugged a pillow to his stomach, his eyes glittering in excitement.

Yuuri bit his lip, thinking. There weren’t a lot of things that not even Phichit knew, so it was difficult to think of anything.

“I… um. I guess one thing that no one else knows is that my anxiety gets so high sometimes that I feel like I’m never good enough. Every once in a while, when I fail at a competition or I get homesick, I think about going back to Hasetsu. I’d just give up skating, competitions, all of it… but skating is the only thing I have ever truly loved, and I won’t give it up until I have to.”

Victor’s expression was unreadable. Yuuri couldn’t meet his gaze, so he glanced over at the TV. The movie credits were rolling, and Yuuri realized that he hadn’t watched any of the second half.

“My turn,” Yuuri said, wanting to break the tension. He picked up another piece of popcorn.

“Yuuri…” Victor began.

“Open,” Yuuri said sternly.

Victor sighed and opened his mouth obediently, like a baby bird.

Yuuri tried to aim before he threw, but it hit Victor’s eye.

“Oi!” Victor clutched his eye. “You’ve wounded me. I’ll never skate again!” He flopped dramatically down onto the couch, his head landing on Yuuri’s lap.

“Drama queen,” Yuuri laughed. “You’ll be fine.”

Victor glared up at him, but the effect was minimized by the fact that he was covering one eye with his hand.

“I’ll tell you something no one else knows, even though you have blinded me,” Victor said.

“I didn’t blind—” Yuuri began, but Victor put his finger on Yuuri’s lips, shushing him.

“Do you want to hear it or not?” Victor raised an eyebrow.

Yuuri swallowed and nodded.

Victor paused for a long time. “I have never been in love,” he said, finally.

Yuuri gaped at him. That was completely unexpected.

“I—but you’ve had—” Yuuri stuttered.

“Many lovers, yes. That doesn’t mean I’ve been _in love_.” Victor’s eyes were open and honest, and it made Yuuri’s heart ache.

“Victor.” Yuuri reached out to brush the fringe away from Victor’s forehead.

Victor leaned into the touch, his eyes dancing in the firelight.

 _I haven’t either,_ Yuuri wanted to say. For the second time in as many hours, Yuuri wanted with every fibre of his being to kiss him. He wanted to slide his tongue against his lips until they parted, to press him bodily into the couch.

“Yuuri,” Victor said softly. He reached up and cupped Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri wanted to kiss him so badly his toes were tingling with it. Victor’s thumb brushed over Yuuri’s cheek bone, and his skin felt alight under Victor’s fingertips.

 _You can’t,_ a voice in his head yelled. _You can’t do this._

Yuuri made a strangled noise in his throat. “I—I need to go to bed,” he said quickly. “My bed.”

Victor’s eyes opened in surprise. Yuuri pushed him a bit, and Victor sat up, watching him.

“See you in the morning,” Yuuri said, getting up and scurrying away as quickly as humanly possible.

Once he was inside his room, he locked the door and leaned back against it, closing his eyes. That was way too close.

He pressed his ear to the door. He could hear faint ambient noise, but then it ended. Victor must have turned off the TV. There was the sound of clicking and footsteps as Makkachin followed Victor down the hall, pausing for a moment in between their two doors, and then Victor’s door opened and closed, and there was silence.

Yuuri listened for a moment longer, but he heard nothing. He walked slowly over to his bed and lay down on his back. There was utter silence in the apartment, and Yuuri felt completely, totally alone. He turned over onto his side, pulling a pillow in front of him to hug it.

Yuuri tried not to let himself think about how close it had been—how he had almost kissed Victor. _Twice_.

At best, it would have meant nothing to Victor. At worst, he would have pushed Yuuri away, and told him that he had to leave, that things were getting too complicated.

He had almost fucked everything up. It wasn’t Victor’s fault that he was a touchy person, and that Yuuri had no self-control.

Yuuri pressed his face into the pillow, trying not to cry, but the tears fell anyway. He knew he should probably call or text Phichit, but he feared that his friend would just tell him he’d been irresponsible for letting it get this far.

Yuuri listened to the sound of the faucet in his sink dripping, counting each drop. The minutes ticked by slowly, and an hour later, Yuuri was no closer to sleep than he had been. The bed felt so empty, the air too silent without the breaths of another person. After a long time, he let himself admit it: he missed sleeping in the same bed with Victor, after only two days.

He choked a little, tears springing to his eyes anew. He was so unbelievably pathetic.

Yuuri sat up, holding his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, his heart aching in his chest. He could get Xanax, that might help him drop off.

Or… he could give in to his instincts: he could go back in Victor’s room.

 _Self destructive behavior_ , Phichit would probably call it. And once again, he would be right.

Still, Yuuri got up, walking silently over to his door, opening it and tiptoeing across the hallway. He stood on one leg, biting his lip, stalling, but he had already made the decision. He knocked softly on the door.

“Yes?” a wavering voice from within answered.

He opened the door hesitantly. Victor was hugging Makkachin to his chest, and there were a lot of tissues on the ground next to the bed. Victor peeked up at him, but it was dark enough that Yuuri couldn’t see his expression.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Yuuri hesitated by the door.

“Wasn’t asleep,” Victor said, his voice cracking a little. He cleared his throat. “What is it?”

“Um. Can… can I sleep here again?”

Victor didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Yuuri still couldn’t really see his face.

Yuuri immediately felt stupid for even asking. There was no reason for Victor to let him sleep there again. He needed to take more space from Victor, it was healthier that way. What was he even doing here? Victor didn’t want him.

Yuuri took a step back, his heart sinking.

But before he could leave, Victor said, “Are you sure?”

Yuuri took a long breath. “Yes. If it’s… okay. With you. I know it’s not—”

“Yes,” Victor interrupted. “Please… stay.”

Yuuri inhaled sharply. He padded over and slid into bed.

 _I’m sorry_ , he wanted to say, staring at Victor’s back. _I’m sorry I almost ruined everything._ After a long few minutes, Victor turned over. They looked at each other in the darkness for a long moment before Victor spoke.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Victor said. 

“Me too,” Yuuri said honestly.

Victor sniffled, and closed his eyes, his hand fisting into the covers.

Yuuri wanted to pull him close, to breathe into his skin. After a while, his eyelids drooped and he finally fell asleep.

 

 

* * *

The next morning, Yuuri opened his eyes to see that Victor was already awake, and watching him. They weren’t touching, but they had moved closer to each other in the night so that they were only about a foot apart. Victor’s hair was messy, and his eyes had dark circles under them.

“Hey,” Victor murmured. He moved his hand just a little toward Yuuri’s, which was on the bed palm up. Yuuri moved his too, sliding his fingers between Victor’s.

“Hi,” Yuuri said.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, and Yuuri managed to keep the little Phichit-sounding voice in the back of his head from pushing too far into his consciousness. He knew he shouldn’t enjoy these moments… but he would, because they were all he was going to get.

Victor seemed content to simply lay there, watching him with his eyes half closed, and Yuuri felt something start to unfurl deep down in his gut.

He’d been fighting against it ever since he came to St. Petersburg, but he simply couldn’t any more. The agony he had put himself through over the past couple of days, a tormented maelstrom in his chest, settled down into a calm ocean.

And Yuuri knew it, deep in his soul: he was completely, irrevocably in love with Victor.

The realization was immediately followed by another: that he never really had a chance. He should have known it before now, really, but he had been scared of what that would mean. He had been in love with Victor to a degree since he first saw him skate—since he’d first seen his silvery hair whipping around during a spin, and his lithe body flying with grace over the ice.

That Victor, the one that brought the world to his knees with his talent, was the Victor he had always looked up to and emulated; that Victor pushed him to be the best skater he could possibly be. That Victor made Yuuri drown in want when he saw him dance on his blades.

There was that Victor, but then there was _this_ one. The one whose eyes were soft and whose skin was warm against his own. The one who threw snowballs in his face. The one who looked at the world in awe, and looked at Yuuri the same way after he landed a perfect quad. The one who had terrible taste in movies, the one who loved his dog deeply. The one who went out and bought Yuuri a new coat because he’d mentioned that he was cold. The one who tried to ground Yuuri when he was anxious, calming him with his very presence. The one who brought him tea every morning.

The knowledge that he was in love settled deep into Yuuri’s chest. He knew that it was never going to be requited, and it was going to be torture to keep pretending like this when Victor was such a kind and… tactile person.

Yuuri had been trying so hard not to let himself get too close, but it had been pointless in the end. He could love Victor from a distance, but that was all he could have. He might as well enjoy this—being with Victor, in any way Victor would let him, for as long as he would let him.

Yuuri hesitated, and then realized he had nothing left to lose. He reached out to cup Victor’s cheek, and Victor’s lips curled upward in a smile. His eyes were the color of the ocean in Hasetsu under the bright summer sky. Yuuri felt heartsick, wondering how it was possible to be so in love and so deeply, incredibly sad at the same time.

“You’re different,” Victor said, his voice soft. “Something’s different.”

Yuuri smiled, his heart crumbling into tiny pieces in his chest. “I think I’m ready to skate Eros.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> [1]Мамочка = Mommy  
> [2]Котенок = kitten  
> [3]Он действительно тебя любит. Я вижу, как он смотрит на тебя. = He truly loves you. I can see it in his eyes.
> 
>  
> 
> I may have done my final edits on this while slightly drunk... it's been a helluva week. Hopefully there aren't any egregious spelling errors.
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone who wrote kind messages of support this week. I appreciate it more than I can say. It was a very difficult several days, obviously, but we got through it.


	5. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri travel to Yekaterinburg for the Russian Nationals, and Victor performs his short program.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been commenting on this fic! I have been trying to reply to as many as possible, but there are just so many that I haven’t been able to keep up. I read and appreciate all of them, and I’m so thankful that so many people have enjoyed reading as much as I’ve loved writing it.
> 
> Second, I have started studying for my professional licensing exam, so I might only be able to update every other weekend for a while. I wish I had more time, but passing this exam has to be my priority. Just hit the subscribe button to make sure you get updates as they come!
> 
> Finally, I went through a bit of brain damage trying to figure out where and when Yuuri and Victor’s nationals would have been held, because we aren’t really sure what year(s) the events occur in YOI. I decided to assume that the Sochi GPF in the show was in December 2015, and that the Barcelona GPF was in December 2016. In reality, there was a bit of an overlap between the Russian Nationals in Yekaterinburg (Dec. 23-27, 2015) and Japanese Nationals in Sapporo (Dec. 24-27, 2015). I purposefully put the men’s events in Russia on the 23-24 and in Japan on the 26-27 so that they could go to each other’s competitions. I wasn’t sure if they really would have been, but chalk it up to artistic license :)
> 
> As usual, longhornletters is a beautiful tropical fish.
> 
> Translations: дорогой = darling

The sound of the front door opening and closing rang through the apartment. It was jarring, reminding Yuuri that there was, indeed, a world outside of the small cocoon of their bed. 

“Wake up, sleepyheads!” a female voice called out. “I’m putting on coffee.”

Makkachin barked and bounced off the bed, scurrying into the foyer. Victor sighed, sitting up. “Be there in a moment!” he called out.

“Is that Nadiya?”

“Yeah. She takes care of Makkachin when I’m gone sometimes, that’s why she has keys.” Victor rubbed his face sleepily as he got up and walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light before he closed the door. 

Yuuri stayed in bed, closing his eyes again for a moment. He felt exhausted, both because of the emotional turmoil of the last two days and the lack of sleep. He listened to the toilet flush and the sink run.

After a few minutes, Victor came back out and walked around the bed, putting a reassuring hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “She won’t stay long. We have to get going to the airport in a couple of hours anyway. She probably just wants to talk to us about travel plans.”

Yuuri nodded, and Victor’s hand disappeared. Sighing, Yuuri got up and walked slowly to the bathroom. He ran the water a little bit cold and splashed it on his face, then looked at himself in the mirror.

How were you supposed to look, in the moments after you realized you were in love? Happy, probably. Glowing. But Yuuri’s reflection just looked tired, strained. 

He was going to have to get used to the feeling of what he wanted being just within reach, but still unreachable.

By the time he grabbed a large sweatshirt of Victor’s and left the relative safety of the bedroom, Nadiya and Victor were chatting amicably at the kitchen island, both with cups of coffee. Makkachin, in true fashion, had colonized the couch. 

When Yuuri emerged, they both turned to look at him—Victor with a soft expression; Nadiya with a sharp, confused gaze.

“You were in Victor’s room,” she said bluntly. 

Yuuri froze, realizing what a mistake they had made. There was no explanation for them having slept together again, not now that Inessa was gone. Victor didn’t look nearly as panicked as Yuuri felt.

“Yuuri had a nightmare, he came to sleep in my bed,” Victor lied smoothly.

Nadiya narrowed her eyes, staring at Victor for a moment, then at Yuuri, as if she were trying to figure something out.

“What time are we flying out again?” Victor asked, changing the subject.

Nadiya’s focus shifted to Victor again, though her eyes still held a bit of suspicion. “You leave at two. With the time difference, it will get you there in the mid-afternoon, and you’ll have time to check in at the hotel, then head to the rink and do a short practice before dinner.”

Yuuri walked around the island to the coffee pot, feeling like he needed more of a pick-me-up than usual. He poured himself a cup and added some milk from the fridge, stirring in some sugar as well. 

“I have you on a redeye after your free skate in Yekaterinburg. You’ll have to fly through Tokyo since there aren’t any non-stop flights to Sapporo. It's a long flight, so I got you nice seats—the ones that fully recline—so you’ll be able to sleep. That way Yuuri won’t be too jetlagged for his Nationals. You’ll have one day after you arrive before his short program begins. I have cars arranged at both airports as usual.”

 _She really is good at her job,_ Yuuri thought, leaning against the counter and sipping his coffee. It was really strong, even with the milk.

Nadiya stood up to refresh her cup. “But I have something other than travel plans to talk to you about.”

Victor sighed. “I thought as much, since you decided to grace us with your presence instead of just sending all of this in an email.” 

Nadiya smiled sardonically at him before sitting down again.

“I have been contacted tentatively by a major sportswear company that wants to sponsor both of you. I think it could be a really good thing for each of you. Victor, it’s been a while since you had a sportswear brand on your list. And Yuuri, you haven’t had any major international sponsorships, right?”

Yuuri shook his head, his hands trembling a little.

“Which major sportswear company, exactly?” Victor asked suspiciously.

Nadiya preened a little. “Nike.”

Yuuri nearly dropped his cup. “W-what? Nike wants to sponsor _me_?”

“The two of you, yes, as part of their new ‘Unlimited’ campaign. It focuses on trailblazers. They’d brand you as the new age of figure skating, the power couple of the ice sports world.”

Victor chewed his lip, looking at Yuuri. “What’s the catch?” he asked quietly.

“How did you—never mind,” Nadiya waved a hand dismissively. “It would definitely help if you both won your respective Nationals and went to Worlds, of course, but it’s not a requirement. The only thing that I think they might want is… um. More affection from you two in public.” 

“ _What_?” Yuuri put down his cup before he dropped it. 

“We have been affectionate in public,” Victor protested. 

Nadiya sighed. “Yes, but there hasn’t been much since the church thing. The paparazzi are starting to lose interest. I know I originally said you wouldn’t have to, but I think it would help if you kiss in front of the cameras. Just once or twice, maybe at Nationals.”

Yuuri felt his heart pounding in his ears. “What… but… I… why…” he stuttered, suddenly unable to form a coherent sentence because _Nike_ wanted him to kiss Victor in public. The whole world had turned inside out and upside down.

“Why the hell does Nike care whether we kiss?” Victor asked, looking flustered.

Nadiya sighed. “I know, it probably seems invasive and strange. They didn’t actually say it in so many words at the meeting I had with the rep…” she fidgeted in her seat a little. “But it was heavily suggested that we put the internet rumors to rest before they would make any kind of contract offer.”

“Rumors?” Victor was now watching Yuuri, who was trying to stay on an even keel and not really managing it.

“That you are doing it all for publicity. That your marriage isn’t real.”

“People are actually writing that on the internet?” Yuuri blurted out.

“Yes.” Nadiya shrugged. “It’s not exactly unreasonable, considering the fact that you were never seen together before that night in Sochi.”

“Let me get this straight. Nike wants me to kiss Victor in front of the international press to show that I’m really married to him?” Yuuri’s voice had reached a much higher pitch than usual, and he was digging his fingernails into his palms.

“Well when you put it that way, it seems ridiculous,” Nadiya admitted. “But yes. Ham it up a little.” 

“Ham it up,” Yuuri repeated. It felt like there was something pressing on his chest. He was being criticized for not being good enough at pretending that he was in love... with the man he actually loved. It was a twisted kind of irony.

“We don’t have to do it, Yuuri.” Victor stood up and walked around the island, taking Yuuri’s hands. “We can just say no. Try and breathe, okay?”

Yuuri focused on Victor’s face, clutching his hands, trying to calm down.

“It’s a big sponsorship. Really big.” Yuuri started thinking about all the money he owed in student loans, to Celestino. He could pay it all back if he got the sponsorship.

On the other hand, he’d have to kiss the man he loved, but who didn’t love him back, in front of the whole world. Victor wouldn’t be doing it because he wanted to kiss Yuuri; it would be just for the sake of a sponsorship. He didn’t know if he could handle that.

Yuuri’s breaths started coming more quickly, and he felt like he was going to hyperventilate.

Victor was watching him with intense concentration, his eyes darting over Yuuri’s face. “Nadiya, I think you should go.”

“Oh c’mon. Let’s not pretend that I don’t know what’s going on here,” Nadiya said. “You were in the same bed a moment ago. You two have obviously gotten… _cozy_.”

Her smile was glittering, like a cat’s. Victor shot her a look over his shoulder, but Yuuri couldn’t see his expression.

“I know you want the commission that we’d get from this deal, but you don’t have a say. We will consider it, and we will tell you whether we want to do it.” 

She stared back at him for a moment, then shrugged and picked up her red shoulder purse, seemingly unfazed by the steel in Victor’s tone.

“Fine. Let me know what you decide. The car will be here to take you to the airport in three hours.” 

Victor pulled Yuuri into a hug as the door closed. He tucked Yuuri’s face into his neck, pressing their bodies together. 

“Do you want a pill?” he asked softly.

Yuuri shook his head. He hated taking them unless he had to, and it would make him groggy in the airport, which wouldn’t be ideal. 

“Okay. Then just breathe, Yuuri. Breathe with me. You’re okay. It will pass.” 

Yuuri breathed in deeply, the pads of his fingers pressed to Victor’s chest. The panic started to melt away after several minutes, and after it was finally gone, the only thing he could feel was warmth at the proximity to Victor. His body relaxed, and he was able to turn his nose a little more into Victor’s neck.

He’d never had anyone in his life (except Phichit) who had been able to help him during a panic attack.

“How did you know what to do?” he asked, his voice a little muffled by Victor’s shirt.

“I’ve been doing some reading.” Victor said it in an offhand way, as if researching how to help someone through the beginnings of a panic attack was something that anyone would do. 

“Oh.” 

“We don’t have to do what she wants.” Victor pulled back enough that he could see Yuuri’s face. 

“I know.” 

Victor’s eyes were touched with sadness. “If the thought of kissing me made your anxiety ramp up that much—” 

“No, it’s not—you don’t understand,” Yuuri interrupted. “It’s not… that. It’s just...” he trailed off.

“Having to perform like a monkey for the press.” 

 _Partially_. “Yes,” he said aloud. 

“I don’t need the money. I won’t make you do this.” Victor cupped Yuuri’s cheeks with both hands. “I promised you at the beginning of all this. I would only do what you wanted.” 

Yuuri felt his heart tug in his chest, wondering how he could possibly love this man even more than before, but Victor kept surprising him. Yuuri put his hands over Victor’s. 

He couldn’t explain the truth: that he would kiss Victor in a heartbeat. If Victor leaned down at that moment and kissed him, he wouldn’t have the strength to say no, no matter how painful it would be later. 

Yuuri rubbed the ring on Victor’s finger with his thumb. 

“I’ll do it,” he said. 

“Are you sure?” 

Yuuri hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded. “I’m sure.” 

He almost thought he saw a flicker of hope in Victor’s eyes.

“Okay,” Victor agreed. “Let’s take Makka on one last walk before we pack.”

 

 

* * *

The first thing Yuuri noticed when they walked out into the open air in Yekaterinburg was that it was bitterly cold—even worse than St. Petersburg. His exposed hands felt like ice immediately, and he fumbled to pull on his gloves. He was glad he was wearing his hat and that he’d brought the warm coat Victor bought for him.

The second thing he noticed was how many paparazzi were outside. Shouts in Russian assailed their ears as they shouldered their way through the crowd to the car Nadiya had arranged for them. 

“God, this is as bad as it was in the first couple days,” Yuuri said, closing the door behind him and looking out at all the reporters and cameras.

“Well. This is my playing field,” Victor said.

The car took them to a nice-looking hotel in the center of the large metropolis. Yuuri hadn't really been expecting anything in particular, considering that up until a few hours ago he had never even heard of Yekaterinburg.

As they got out of the car, Victor said something in Russian and handed a note to the busboy, who nodded.

They walked into the expansive lobby, where everything was white—even the chairs and tables. The hotel staff, in stark contrast, were all dressed in black. Victor took Yuuri’s hand, leading him over to an available woman at the front desk. 

“Checking in,” Victor said. “Nikiforov.”

The woman’s eye flashed in recognition before she typed quickly on her computer. “Ah yes, we have you booked in the honeymoon suite for two nights.” 

“What?” Yuuri blurted out. 

“Are you sure?” Victor said quickly.

The woman looked confused, but she checked again. “Yes, that’s what it says here.” 

“Must be Nadiya’s idea of a joke,” Victor mumbled. “Are there any other rooms available?”

“I’m afraid not, due to the competition—”

Victor waved in frustration. “Fine, it’s fine, just… check us in, please.” 

The woman glanced at them curiously, then typed quickly again. 

“Your keys,” she said, pushing a sleeve across the counter. “Take the elevator to the twelfth floor. Enjoy your stay with us.” 

Victor smiled (his fake smile—Yuuri had come to know the difference) and took Yuuri’s hand, leading him to the elevator.

“Nadiya really can be annoying sometimes,” Victor grumbled, stabbing the number 12 with his finger as the door closed.

Yuuri was silent, thinking about their conversation that morning. Nadiya had said they were _getting cozy._

In a flash, he connected the dots: Nadiya thought they were having sex.

Yuuri laughed bitterly, clenching his stomach uncomfortably. Victor glanced at him.

“What?”

Yuuri shook his head. The ironies just kept piling onto one another. “Nothing.” 

“Hmm,” Victor hummed. The elevator dinged and they exited, walking over to the room labeled _Honeymoon Suite_ in English. 

Victor opened the door to a large suite, which was also all in black and white. It was enormous, with a living room and kitchen, and large windows overlooking the city. Their luggage was already in the hallway. 

The California king-sized bed, though, was what particularly caught Yuuri's attention. There was a giant heart on the white comforter made of red rose petals, and a bottle of champagne was chilling in a bucket at the end. There was a card attached. 

Victor scowled, walking over and taking the card, reading it quickly.

“What does it say?” Yuuri asked, unwinding his scarf.

“Nothing,” Victor said, stuffing the card in his pocket and hastily gathering up all the rose petals, throwing them in the trash. 

“This room must be so much money per night. I don’t know if I can—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Victor said, not looking at him. “I’ve got it.” 

“You keep paying for everything—” 

“I have all this money from sponsorships, we might as well use it. What else is it good for?” 

Yuuri sighed, giving in, even though it made him uncomfortable. “I’m… um. I’m going to get dressed for practice. Can we get some food on the way? I’m starving.” He grabbed his suitcase, turning it on his side and unzipping it. 

“Yes.” Victor was still finishing up with the rose petals. “There should be food stocked in the fridge—I’ll make us a protein smoothie for a snack before we go.”

Yuuri took his clothes out and brought them with him into the bathroom to change, trying to escape Victor’s sour mood.

 

  

* * *

They took another black car to the rink. Victor didn’t talk much during the ride, texting away furiously on his phone, his jaw tight.

When they arrived, Victor went to the competition check-in area, and Yuuri went straight into the rink. As a member of ISU, he had been granted permission to use the ice during the open practice for competitors.

He laced up his skates, looking around at the Russian skaters, but he only recognized a couple of them. Several of them were talking to their coaches, and they all seemed so... serious. 

Victor appeared at his side, handing him credentials. “How are you feeling today?” 

“Fine, a little stiff from the plane, but I’ll feel better when I warm up. Where’s Yakov, by the way?”

“He’s with the other Yuri at the Russian Junior Nationals. He’ll be here tomorrow. At this point in my career, I don’t really need him here, but he has other skaters to coach. Georgi, in particular.”

Victor sat down to pull on his own skates. “Do you want to run through Eros a bit while we’re here?” 

“We can, but you really need to concentrate on preparing for tomorrow, don’t you?” 

Victor shrugged. “I’ll spend about an hour running through my programs, then I’ll work with you. After you warm up, run through your step sequences.” 

Yuuri nodded and pulled on his skating gloves before he stood up to walk over to the rink. 

As he did his warm-ups, he noticed that a lot of the Russian competitors were staring at him outright, some with curiosity, some with hostility. He started to wish that he had come later in the evening, when not as many people would have been there. 

Victor took his time getting on the ice, stopping to chat with some of the other skaters. His bad mood appeared to be gone, his bright smile flashing as he spoke. All of the Russian competitors seemed to love Victor, though he was the undisputed champion for several years running, making it nearly impossible for them to take gold. They must have resigned themselves to competing for silver.

Victor warmed up, then started his short program from the beginning. He flew over the ice, executing a quad flip so beautifully that several people watching from the sidelines clapped. 

Yuuri put his head down, trying to concentrate on his own practice. He ran through his step sequence from Eros, and went on to do the rest of the program, marking the jumps.

After running through his short program twice, his free skate once, Victor skated around to Yuuri. “Let’s see your quad sal,” he said. “It’s been shaky lately.” 

Yuuri nodded, skating around to gain speed, feeling like all the eyes in the rink were on him. When he launched into the jump, though, he could tell that it was wrong from the moment his feet left the ice. As he tried to land, he fell, both hands and one knee hitting the ice with a smack.

Victor skated over to him immediately, helping him up. “Yuuri, are you okay? Did that hurt? It looked like—”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri snapped. “Let go.”

Victor let go of him, raising his hands. “Are you sure? That looked really bad.” 

He looked so worried that Yuuri sighed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just... embarrassed.” 

“Don’t be, it happens all the time.”

Yuuri scowled. That may be true, but this wasn’t an environment in which he wanted to appear weak. He bent over, rubbing his knee and glancing around. A few of the Russians were smirking at him. They must be thinking he was such a joke, that he didn’t deserve to be with Victor, the silver god of the skating world. 

And they were right. 

He was stupid to think he could have practiced like this.

“I think I’m done for today,” Yuuri said, skating gingerly over to the bannister.

Victor followed him. “Are you sure?”

Yuuri nodded, putting on his skate guards. His knee wasn’t really that hurt; it was his pride that had really taken the hit. He just wanted to be out of there as soon as possible.

 

 

* * *

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Victor asked for the third time as they walked back into their hotel room. “You don’t want to be examined by the ISU doctor?”

Yuuri sighed. He wanted to be irritated with Victor, but he looked so genuinely worried that his pique melted away. “I’m fine, I promise. In fact, I’m going to go down to the hotel gym and do a run, since my skating was cut short.” 

“I don’t know if you should—” 

“I’m going,” Yuuri said firmly. Seeing the concern still in Victor’s eyes, he added gently, “I promise I’ll stop if it hurts.” 

Victor didn’t really look convinced, but he nodded in concession. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a Gatorade, drinking half of it in one go. 

Yuuri changed into his running shoes, grabbed his phone and headphones, and walked over to the fridge to get his own Gatorade. 

“I’ll see you in a bit,” he said. “You should take a nap or something. Rest up.” 

Without thinking, he reached up and kissed Victor on the cheek. 

It was something they had done a bunch of times in front of Inessa, but now… there was no one there to see it, no reason for him to do it. It had been like a reflex.

Yuuri froze, looking up at Victor, whose nose had gone pink. 

“Um. Bye,” Yuuri said, turning and leaving the hotel room as quickly as he could.

 _How much more of a fool of myself can I make in one day?_ he thought, walking to the elevator.

When he got to the fitness center, Yuuri put his favorite running mix on and got on the treadmill. He took the time to warm up, making sure that his knee could take it, then immediately ramped the pace up higher than usual. He needed to rest his legs for Nationals, but he also needed to get out some of his restless energy.

Yuuri ran about ten kilometers rather than his usual five or six, and got off the treadmill to fill his empty Gatorade bottle with water. The news was on the TV near the water filling station, and as he watched, a picture of Victor flashed on the screen, his Grand Prix Final gold medal around his neck. 

Yuuri took out his headphones to listen, but they were speaking in Russian. Another picture came across the screen: this time, one of the photos of him kissing Victor on their “wedding night,” and then a picture of them getting in the car at the Yekaterinburg airport. Yuuri wished he knew what they were saying, but he could probably guess.

His phone rang in a facetime call, and Yuuri smiled when he saw the caller ID. 

“Hey!” he said, answering it, his heart warm at seeing Phichit’s smiling face. It looked like he had just woken up. 

“Hi Yuuri! What’s up? You haven’t texted me in a while.” His lips turned downward in a mock-pout.

Yuuri laughed, starting to walk out of the gym. “Sorry, it’s just been kind of intense… with everything going on.”

Phichit narrowed his eyes at him. “Okay, there are at least three things you haven’t told me.” 

Yuuri sighed, looking around. He couldn’t exactly have this conversation in the lobby, nor in his room, where Victor was resting.

“Hold on,” he said, walking over to the empty business center. He closed the door behind him. 

“Okay, spill.” Phichit sat up a little, rubbing his sleepy eyes. 

“Want to get some coffee first?” Yuuri asked. 

“Stop stalling.”

Yuuri sighed. “Well. The first thing is… Nadiya wants us to kiss in public, so that we can get a Nike deal.”

Phichit froze, his face incredulous. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Why do you have to kiss for a _sponsorship_? That makes no sense.”

Yuuri shrugged. “I don’t know, something about putting rumors about our marriage being fake to rest.” 

“If Victor is making you do this—”

Yuuri shook his head quickly. “No, no, he didn’t. He wanted to say no, but I told him I would do it.”

“Yuuri, it’s not a good idea.” 

Yuuri sighed. “I know, but think of how much money I’ll get from it, like… I could pay off all my student loans in one go.” 

Phichit’s gaze so intense that Yuuri felt like he could see right through him. “That’s not the real reason you said yes.”

Yuuri ducked his head. He should have done this over text, it would have been much easier to lie. 

“Yuuri. Stop trying to hide from me.” 

He raised his head and looked Phichit in the eyes. “You were right. I love him. I’m in love with him.” It felt strange to say it aloud.

For a long moment, Phichit didn’t move or react. Then he licked his lips and said, “Come home.” 

“What? No, I can’t, I—” 

“After Nationals, come back to Detroit. Just leave.” 

The very thought of it made Yuuri’s heart ache. It would mean he’d never be able to see Victor’s sleepy, bright blue eyes in the morning again. Never feel his body against Yuuri’s when he showed him something on the ice. Never… kiss him. 

“I can’t.” Yuuri clutched his phone tightly. 

Phichit closed his eyes, and Yuuri could see a little glinting tear at the edge of one of them. “I just can see how much this is hurting you inside. It’s only going to get worse.”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know how much pain I’m putting myself through?”

Phichit opened his eyes, sniffling a little. “That’s why it’s better to go cold turkey. Just leave him behind.”

“It wouldn’t make this go away.” 

Phichit huffed. “No, but at least it wouldn’t literally feel like you’re wandering through a desert, dying of thirst, and a beautiful waterfall is always just out of reach.”

Yuuri sighed, rubbing his hand through his sweaty hair. “Until he doesn’t want me anymore, I’m staying.” 

Phichit shook his head, looking at him in disbelief. “Why, Yuuri?” 

“You know that saying?” 

“What saying?”

“’Tis better to have loved…” 

Phichit clutched his chest as if he were in physical pain. “I can’t talk you out of this, then.”

Yuuri felt a wave of affection for him. “No. But I’m grateful that you’re trying to look out for me.” 

“I have half a mind to fly out there and have a talk with him, but Ciao Ciao would probably kill me.” 

Yuuri laughed. “Speaking of which, you better get to practice.” 

Phichit sighed, glancing at his clock. “Yeah. When do you head to Japan?”

“After the Russian Nationals free skate, day after tomorrow.”

“I wish I could be there with you, watch you win gold.”

Yuuri smiled, feeling lighter despite the heaviness of their conversation. Phichit always had such confidence in him. “Me too.”

 

 

* * *

When he got back to the hotel room, Victor was in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled delicious. His hair was sleep-mussed, and he was wearing grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. No shirt, as usual. 

Yuuri stopped in his tracks, a wave of longing washing over him.

“Have a good run?” Victor asked, shifting a pan. 

“Yeah.” Yuuri made himself move, walking around the island. “What’re you making?” 

“Just a chicken veggie stir fry and brown rice. With low sodium teriyaki sauce,” he added quickly, when he saw that Yuuri was about to protest. “I’ve long learned that it’s better to cook in hotels than to rely on hotel food right before a competition.” 

“Sounds great. I’m just going to go shower,” Yuuri said, walking to the bathroom, stripping off his shirt as he went.

When he emerged, Victor had put two plates on the table. “Want some?” Victor asked, holding out a bottle of wine.

“No thanks. I don’t know how you drink the night before a competition,” Yuuri said, sitting down.

Victor shrugged, pouring himself a glass. “One won’t kill me.”

Yuuri picked up his fork and started shoveling food in his mouth. He was absolutely ravenous. “It gives me a stomachache if have it the night before I skate. But then, I usually get a stomachache anyway. Nerves.” 

Victor speared a piece of chicken, the embodiment of calm. “Maybe we should get you some ginger tea or something.” 

“Couldn’t hurt.” 

“Is there anything that does help? With the nervousness?” 

“Not a lot. I mean, I can take one of my pills, but I don’t like to do that the night before I compete. What about you? Do you even get nervous anymore?” 

Victor shrugged again. “Not really. Once in a while, but not recently.” 

“Competitions like this must seem like small potatoes.” 

Victor cocked his head, smiling. “Small potatoes? What does that mean?”

Yuuri giggled. “It’s an Americanism. It means… like, no big deal.”

“Ah.” Victor picked up his glass, swirling it a bit. “No, it’s not that.” 

“What is it, then?” 

Victor watched him for a while, chewing his bottom lip. “I think, at a certain point, I started to realize that while skating was important, it wasn’t the most important thing,” he said, his voice soft. 

“That’s… very healthy, I guess,” Yuuri said, looking down at his food. He wished he could have that kind of mindset about skating.

“Mmm,” Victor hummed, taking another long sip of his wine.

 

 

* * *

Later, when Yuuri came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth, Victor was already in bed. Yuuri swallowed, putting his glasses on the bedside table.

He slid into bed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Victor reached out and took Yuuri’s hand, the gesture a mirror of the one he’d made that morning, watching him with a soft expression. Yuuri relaxed a little.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, squeezing Yuuri’s hand.

“Night, Vitya,” Yuuri said.

Yuuri froze when he realized what he'd said. Victor’s eyes widened.

“You… called me Vitya,” he said quietly.

“I… um. Sorry. It must be because—” 

“I like it,” Victor said in a rush.  

“O—okay,” Yuuri said. “Um. Good.” 

Victor squeezed his hand again, smiling. Yuuri felt a tug in his chest as he closed his eyes and started to drift off.

 

 

* * *

After a restless sleep, tossing and turning all night, Yuuri woke up before dawn. He snapped to alertness immediately, and he could tell that he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. He glanced at his phone; it was only five A.M. 

Yuuri groaned under his breath, rubbing his eyes and glancing over at Victor, who was still sound asleep. It was essential that Victor rest before his competition, so Yuuri slipped out of bed silently and went to get his gear bag. 

There was only one place he could go, one thing that helped when he couldn’t sleep: the ice. 

By the time he got to the rink, Yuuri was itching to skate. It wasn’t officially practice time for a few more hours, but there were plenty of maintenance people there already. He silently thanked Nadiya for going to the trouble of getting him official credentials so that he could come and go as he pleased.

Yuuri put on his skates and went out on the newly-cleaned ice, and he immediately felt better. He warmed up, skating circuits and then working on his edges until he felt ready, and then he ran through the Eros program a couple of times. But the conflicting emotions nagging in the back of his head—that had caused him to lose sleep—were still there. 

He was going to kiss Victor, in front of the International press, and it was going to mean nothing to Victor.

Yuuri felt his hands clench at the thought, even though he was trying to keep his mind blank as he ran through his step sequence.  

After he was done running through his program again, Yuuri realized that he didn’t feel like going back to the hotel yet.

He took out his phone, looking at the headlines in the news. There was a picture of Victor in his free skate outfit at the top of one of the articles, the title touting the fact that he was poised to take gold at Worlds yet again. 

Yuuri felt a burst of joy and love seeing his face, even though it was just in a picture; at the same time, a strong desire surged within him to compete with Victor for gold.

Seeing the picture gave him an idea. He put in his headphones, searching for a video on youtube. After he’d watched it a few times, he started it over one more time, pocketing his phone, and settling into a pose at center ice.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri got back to the hotel room just as the sun was rising, and Victor was still passed out in bed. Yuuri smiled at his sleeping form before going to take a quick shower.

When he came out, Yuuri put on some comfortable sweatpants, climbing onto the bed. He brushed his fingers through Victor's fringe, and Victor made a sleepy, contented sound. 

“You should wake up. Warm-ups are starting soon,” Yuuri said quietly.

Victor groaned, turning over and pulling Yuuri to him, pressing his face into Yuuri’s chest.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

“I can go make breakfast,” Yuuri said, but Victor just clung to him. 

“Mmmm. Comfy.” Victor rubbed his nose into Yuuri’s shirt, and Yuuri felt like his chest might cave in.

Yuuri decided to let him doze. After a little while, he got up, extricating himself from Victor’s arms. He walked over to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast, and he put on some coffee. He wasn’t sure what Victor normally ate on competition days, but after waking up so early and working out for so long, he was ravenous. 

Eventually, Victor groaned and stretched, the sheets pulling down his body to expose his naked torso. 

“Hungry?” Yuuri called out. 

“What are you making? I don’t usually eat much before I compete.” 

“Eggs and toast,” Yuuri said. “Want some?”

Victor shuffled over sleepily, and grinned at the eggs, nodding. “Looks good.”

Yuuri put the eggs on two separate plates, adding some fruit to each. Victor went to get some coffee, adding a lot of cream and sugar as usual.

He leaned against the counter, his body all long limbs and his hair glinting in the early morning light. _It should be illegal for him to look that good in the morning_ , Yuuri thought. His gaze fell to the vee of Victor’s hips, the way there was just a little bit of silvery hair on the bottom of his abs that led downward... 

He stabbed the eggs with his fork and shoved them in his mouth in order to stop thinking about what he’d rather swallow. 

Victor cupped the mug with both hands, blissfully unaware of the way Yuuri’s thoughts had turned. “Do you want to join me on the floor today? That way you can see me off before I skate and meet me at the kiss and cry after.”

Yuuri paused halfway through a bite of toast. He swallowed. “Um. Do you want me to?”

Victor shrugged. “Might be a good opportunity to show some... affection.”

“Right.” _Of course._ He’d almost forgotten that they were supposed to be putting on a show. “Um. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Victor’s smile was as brilliant as the rising sun. Yuuri wished he could make Victor smile like that every day for the rest of his life. 

Victor took a long sip of his coffee. “By the way, where were you this morning? I woke up at one point and you weren’t here.” 

Yuuri shrugged. “Training. Couldn’t sleep.”

“What did you work on?”

“Mostly Eros, and my free skate a little.” He didn’t know why he was lying, but for some reason, he wanted to keep his other project a secret.

Victor pushed off the counter, walking close enough that he could rest his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. 

“You don’t need to worry. I know that’s not something that helps someone with anxiety, telling them to stop worrying, but… you’re going to blow them all away. Of that I have no doubt.”

Yuuri blinked up at him, and he could see the conviction in Victor’s eyes. Of course, he couldn’t tell Victor the real reason he was losing sleep, so he just nodded. “Thanks.” 

Victor nodded decisively. He picked up his plate, taking it back to bed. 

“Don’t get crumbs in the sheets,” Yuuri called after him.

“I always give housekeeping great tips!” Victor called back.

  

* * *

Yuuri felt out of sorts, being at a competition but not competing himself. The only times he had ever done so in the past were to watch Phichit, but even then, it was only at events in Detroit. Training time was too precious to go halfway around the world and watch someone else skate. 

The weirder thing, though, was how everyone suddenly seemed to know who he was overnight.

When he and Victor walked into the athletes' area, everyone paused in their conversations and stared at them. After a long moment of silence, they all immediately started chattering even louder than before. 

Victor just ignored them, taking Yuuri’s hand and striding confidently over to an empty area of the room. As Victor put down his gear, Yakov walked in the room, making a beeline for them. 

“Vitya. Are you warmed up?” 

“Just got here.” 

“You always sleep in too late.” 

“Sleep is more important than more practice quads,” Victor said defiantly. “By the way, I got Yuuri a floor pass.” 

Yakov narrowed his eyes. “I hope you won’t be distracted, Victor,” he said gruffly.

Victor rolled his eyes, putting his headphones and starting to do his stretching exercises.

  

 

* * *

Victor was the last to skate, as he was seeded first. As Maxim Kovtun was gliding out onto the ice, Victor nodded at Yuuri, picking up his water bottle. 

They walked together down the long corridor toward the rink. Right before they emerged into the arena, Victor took his hand. 

The crowd was cheering, but it wasn’t for Maxim; it was because Victor, their national hero, had arrived. Victor waved at the stands to a tumultuous roar from the crowd. Thousands of shutters clicked and bulbs flashed, taking photos of them as they walked to the ice. 

Yuuri shivered, not used to the cold air when he wasn’t in his training clothes.

“You alright?” Victor stopped, turning to look at him, eyes concerned.

“Shouldn’t have left my coat back there,” Yuuri said. “I’ll just go back and get it.” 

Before he could turn and flee to the safety of the athlete room, Victor’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Here.” Victor unzipped his white and red Russian training jacket, pulling it off to expose the sparkling silver shirt underneath it. 

Victor held the jacket out. “Just use this.”

Yuuri turned around, aware that most of the eyes in the stadium were on them, and put his arms into the jacket with Victor’s help. He turned around, slinging it onto his shoulders, feeling the heat in his cheeks. 

Victor looked pleased, his nose a little pink. “Looks good on you,” he said, smiling widely. 

Maxim’s song ended and there was loud applause for him as he finished in his final pose.

“I’m up.” Victor took off his skate guards.

They started chanting his name. _VIK-TOR! VIK-TOR!_

Victor waved at the crowd again as he stepped out onto the ice, then turned to Yuuri.

“Good luck,” Yuuri said, smiling. “Not that you need it.” 

“You’re my luck, _zolotse_ ,” Victor purred. He took Yuuri’s right hand and kissed his ring, looking up at him through his lashes.

Yuuri gulped, blinded by all the flashing cameras around them. Victor winked, and then his hand and lips were gone.

Yuuri was left his wake, feeling even more self-conscious without Victor at his side. He turned his nose into the shoulder of the jacket, inhaling Victor’s scent.

Victor skated out into the middle of the rink, smiling and waving at his fans. He stopped in the center, settling into his starting pose: his right hand on his left shoulder, left hand on his right hip, and his chin on his right shoulder. 

Yuuri had watched Victor perform this short program several times during the season, including at the Grand Prix Final. He had always thought the song was a strange choice, though it was a crowd-pleaser. The remix was upbeat, but the lyrics were actually about loneliness; about being on top of the world and surrounded by people, winning continuously, but feeling unfulfilled. 

The [upbeat music](https://youtu.be/w0aICiNOVvI?t=44s) started over the loudspeakers.

_Early morning, he wakes up. Knock, knock, knock on the door._

Victor spread his arms as if he were waking up.

 _It’s time for makeup, perfect smile. I_ _t’s you they’re all waiting for,_ the singer crooned.

He pulled his hands down his body, twirling around and grinning at the crowd.

_Isn’t he lovely, this champion boy?_

Victor did some fancy footwork, his face radiating confidence, then immediately launched into a perfect quad flip, his signature jump.

 _And they say, he’s so lucky, he’s a star_  
_But he cry, cry, cries in his lonely heart, thinking_

Victor knelt, holding his hands over his heart, and stood up again, starting a short step sequence with a lot of twists and twirls, and the crowd started clapping in time to the music. 

 _If there’s nothing missing in my life_  
_Then why do these tears come at night?_

Victor twirled, then immediately launched into his quad toe loop, triple loop combination, landing so gracefully that it appeared effortless. Yuuri clutched his shirt over his heart. Victor never ceased to amaze him, no matter how many times Yuuri watched him skate. 

 _Lost in an image, in a dream_  
_And there’s no one there to wake him up_

Victor bent backward into a layback Ina Bauer, and once he straightened again, he flung his body into a flying sit spin.

 _The world is spinning and he keeps on winning_  
_But tell me, what happens when it stops?_

Victor stopped the spin precisely on the last word, and the crowd roared again. He launched into another step sequence, his hips swaying as he danced across the entire rink, the very essence of grace on the ice despite the intricacy of the routine.

 _Isn’t he lucky, this champion boy?_  
_He is so lucky, but why does he cry?_

Victor landed a beautiful triple axel, and then pulled his arms into his body for his final camel combo spin.

 _If there is nothing missing in his life_  
_Then why do these tears come at night?_  

Victor froze in the final pose—arms outstretched in front of him, as if asking for an embrace—and the entire stadium roared with applause. He panted for a moment, then dropped his arms, turning to grin directly at Yuuri.

He skated over, and Yuuri’s heart started pounding as he approached. Victor pulled him into his arms, hugging him close.

“That was fantastic,” Yuuri said, his voice barely audible over the deafening cheers of the crowd.

“Thank you,” Victor whispered, squeezing Yuuri a little tighter.

 

 

* * *

Victor’s score was 109.5, in the lead by over fifteen points. As they left the kiss and cry they were swarmed by press. 

Victor’s smile was blinding, and he wouldn’t let go of Yuuri’s hand. 

“Victor! Victor! Can you tell us why you got married so quickly?” a woman with a thick French accent asked in English.

Victor sighed, but his smile remained in place, albeit a bit tighter than before. “As I have said before, I will not comment on my personal life while I’m at a competition. If you have any questions about my performance, I’m happy to answer.” 

“How do you feel about your short program today, Victor?” a woman with a pixie cut asked him, shoving a microphone in his face. 

“I think it went well today,” he said. “Not my personal best for a short program, of course, but close enough.”

“What is your plan of attack for Worlds?” she followed up.

Victor laughed, tossing his hair a little. His eyes glittered beautifully in the bright lights, and Yuuri was reminded why he was the heartthrob of the skating world.

“I have to qualify first. Let’s see what happens tomorrow.”

“Your free skate has been lauded as one of the best of all time, but your elements do not have a high enough COE to break the record you set last year. Are you planning on adding another quad?” 

“I’m not concerning myself with setting a new world record right now.”

“Do you think that your recent nuptials have been a distraction? Would you have been able to set a new world record today if it weren’t for Katsuki Yuuri?” another reporter asked.

Victor’s smile disappeared, and it was like the sun had gone behind a dark cloud. The reporter who had asked the question immediately looked uncomfortable.

“Meeting Yuuri was the luckiest thing that has ever happened to me, on or off the ice,” Victor said icily. “No more questions.” 

Yuuri looked up at him in shock, but then ducked his face, hiding his surprise. _He doesn’t mean it, remember? Eyes on the prize: Nike sponsorship._

Victor tugged Yuuri’s hand, pulling him away from the cameras and shouting reporters.

They walked back to the athlete room and Victor changed out of his skates. Yuuri gave him his jacket, and Victor looked almost reluctant to take it back. 

Yuuri pulled on his own coat. “You know, this whole season, I’ve been wondering something about your short program music,” he said. 

Victor tilted his head. “Oh?”

“How did you get someone who sounded so much like her to re-record the track and change the pronouns and lyrics?”

Victor grinned. “I didn’t.” 

“You didn’t?” 

“It’s really her,” he said, his smile wide. “She’s an old friend. She did it as a favor.” 

Yuuri gaped at him. “ _WHAT_? You know Britney Spears? How?”

“That,” Victor said, shouldering his gear bag, “is a story for another time.” 

“I’m holding you to that,” Yuuri grumbled. 

“What should we do for dinner tonight?” Victor asked, taking his hand again and leading him out of the athlete room, toward the front entrance.

“Whatever you want, since you have to compete again tomorrow.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of feel like pizza, actually.” 

Victor put on his sunglasses and pushed open the doors to the outside, and they were immediately assailed by thousands of camera bulbs flashing.

 _When did this become my life?_ Yuuri thought, following in Victor’s wake to the waiting car.

 

 

* * *

When they walked back into the hotel room, Victor dropped his gear bag by the door and stretched his arms upward. Yuuri put the pizza and salad they’d picked up on the coffee table. 

“Want anything to drink?” Victor asked, walking into the kitchen.

“Is there juice?”

“Orange.” 

“That works.” 

Victor brought two glasses of juice and two plates over. Yuuri put a lot of salad on his plate, and only one piece of pizza. Victor just started eating the pizza right from the box. 

“Why even bring over a plate?” Yuuri asked. 

“Hmm?” Victor hummed, mouth full. 

Yuuri shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Never mind.”

Victor turned on the TV, flipping through channels. Almost everything was in Russian, but eventually he found a movie that was in English with Russian subtitles. 

“Sleepless in Seattle? Really?” Yuuri raised an eyebrow at him.

“A classic,” Victor said defiantly, taking another piece of pizza. 

“Isn’t there anything else?” 

“I’m the one competing tomorrow, it’s my pick.”

Yuuri sighed, but he settled in with his plate on his lap to watch.

Half an hour later, Meg Ryan’s character was making her grand gesture—running toward the Empire State Building—when Yuuri felt his eyes drooping. He’d woken up so early, and hadn’t slept well the night before.

He didn’t realize that he’d fallen asleep on the couch until he heard Victor putting their dishes in the sink. Victor came back over to the couch, switching off the TV. 

“C’mon, дорогой, you don’t want to sleep on the couch like that. You’ll hurt your neck.”

In his sleepy haze, Yuuri groaned, but he let himself be helped up and led to the bed.

Victor helped him out of his jeans, and took off his button-down, leaving him in just his undershirt and underwear. Victor helped him under the covers and went to the bathroom for a few minutes.

Yuuri was mostly asleep by the time Victor returned and got into bed. Victor tucked his front into Yuuri’s back, slinging an arm around his waist. “This okay?” he asked.

“Mmm. Yeah.”Yuuri smiled sleepily, snuggling backward.

Yuuri drifted off, and he could have imagined it… or it might have been the beginning of a dream… but he thought he felt Victor’s lips on the back of his neck.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Victor’s short program song was “Lucky” by Britney Spears. [This is the remix](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0aICiNOVvI%20) I was thinking he’d use, starting at about 0:48
> 
> 2\. Yeah, Victor and Britney are pals. There may or may not be some photos of them doing Karaoke together at a dive bar in L.A…
> 
> 3\. Victor’s SP outfit might have looked something like [this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/ef/f3/5e/eff35e2ff5781a734a1bededc8e29f78.jpg)


	6. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor performs his free skate, and they travel to Sapporo on Christmas Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m assuming you wouldn’t have read this far without noting the explicit rating, but note the change in tags :)
> 
> Check out [this awesome fanvid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWcquiW5MRc) that softeviktor made based on Victor's SP in chapter 5!!
> 
> Mille grazie to longhornletters as always.

Yuuri blinked his eyes open to see sunshine pouring onto the sheets through the large windows, and the comforting smell of coffee wafting through the suite. The way the sun bathed the bed in light reminded him forcibly of the first time he woke up with Victor. This time, however, Victor wasn't in bed with him.

“Morning,” Victor called from the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Yeah, great actually.” Yuuri stretched out on the bed, elongating his spine.

Victor’s face appeared over his head. “Hungry?” 

Yuuri smiled, and pulled him down by the shoulders onto the bed. Victor laughed and didn’t resist, so his body flopped down onto Yuuri’s. 

Victor’s face radiated sunshine and his nose was a little pink, his body a solid weight on top of Yuuri. For a moment, Yuuri let himself think that this was real; that Victor loved him, that they were together. 

“What’s for breakfast?” Yuuri asked.

“Veggie omelettes.”

“Sounds delicious.” Yuuri’s tongue involuntarily darted out to lick his lower lip, and Victor’s eyes followed the movement. 

Victor closed his eyes, turning his head to the side, then he got up from the bed. “I better flip it, the eggs will burn.” 

“Kay.” Yuuri stretched for a moment longer before he grabbed his phone and followed Victor to the kitchen. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, by the way,” Yuuri said, turning on the electric kettle for his tea. 

Victor shrugged. “We don’t really celebrate Catholic Christmas much here in Russia. Not on the day.” 

“We don’t in Japan either. But I really like the way they celebrate in the U.S.—the lights, the cocoa, presents. Phichit and I are usually alone on campus at Christmas, since neither of us can afford to fly home for the holidays, and we’re usually training anyway. We celebrate together.” 

“Die Hard?” Victor’s eyes glinted. 

Yuuri nodded. “And presents of course.”

Yuuri thought of the package for Victor that was stowed carefully in his bag, that he’d had to hide for a few days. He’d been lucky that it arrived when Victor had been out walking Makkachin. 

“What else?” 

Yuuri took a tea bag and a mug out of the cabinet. “Why are you so interested?” 

Victor shrugged, flipping the omelette. “Just wondering.” 

“Um, well. So, even though we aren’t technically allowed to have them in the dorms, Phichit and I always got a Christmas tree. The dorms were almost completely empty on Christmas night, which was really peaceful. We turned out all the lights in the dorm room except for the ones on the tree, and then we lay underneath it looking upward. We just sat there and watched the colored lights twinkling, and talked about anything but skating, or didn’t talk at all. It’s one of my favorite things about Christmas.” Yuuri felt a burst of sadness, realizing that he wasn’t going to be with Phichit that year.

Victor cut the omelette in half and put a piece on each plate he had set out on the counter, then turned off the burner. “That’s… beautiful.”

He didn’t move to take the plates to the table, however; he just stared at the stove for a long moment, his face unreadable.

“Victor?” Yuuri prompted after a moment.

Victor blinked, apparently taken out of some kind of reverie. “You miss him, don’t you?” 

Yuuri sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I miss him so much it hurts. He’s my best friend.”

Victor chewed his bottom lip pensively.

“You going to eat that or not? You have a gold medal to win today,” Yuuri said, nudging him with his shoulder.

He handed Yuuri a plate. “Yeah, let’s eat. We also have to pack up since we aren’t coming back here before we go to the airport.”

 

 

* * *

They packed up their suitcases and loaded them into the black car, getting to the rink early enough that not many competitors had arrived yet. Yuuri was able to get in a good practice session before the first wave of skaters had their warm-ups. 

After he was done skating, Yuuri found Victor in a back corridor going over his free skate. 

“How did the quad sal feel today? Is your knee okay?” Victor asked, continuing to go through the motions of his program.

“Only you would be worrying about me right now, when you’re about to compete.” Yuuri leaned against the wall to watch.

Victor raised his eyebrows, marking a jump. 

Yuuri sighed. “It was good. My knee is fine, only a little wobble on my landing. But it is what it is.” 

“It’s not your technique that’s the problem.” 

Yuuri didn’t reply, looking down at his feet. His competition nerves were starting to rumble in his stomach, but he didn’t want Victor to know that. 

Victor dropped his arms and walked over to him. “I told you before, the problem is your confidence. You have to believe you can excel. Once you do, you’re going to blow everyone away. Including me.” 

Yuuri just shook his head a little bit, unable to meet Victor’s eyes.

“I mean it, Yuuri. You’re going to win Nationals, and then I’ll be happy to fight you for the gold at Worlds.” Victor put his hand on the wall over Yuuri’s head. 

“Look at me.”

Yuuri forced himself to look up. Victor’s bangs fell in his eye a little bit, and without thinking, he reached up to brush them away.

“Do you believe me?” Victor asked. 

“I wish I could,” Yuuri said softly. 

Victor reached up with his free hand and cupped Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri tilted his face upward, like a flower seeking sunlight. 

“I think no one in the world knows your true Eros yet. There’s an alluring, confident side of you, that you’re not even aware of, but that I’ve seen a glimpse of in practice. Can you show it to me soon?”

Victor was so close, his eyes a bright, focused blue, and he didn’t move back. As the silence stretched out, Yuuri held his breath.

 _Kiss me. Just do it. Please. I want you to._  

“Victor, it’s almost time for your wave’s warm-up skate.”

Victor closed his eyes for a moment and stood up straight. Yuuri looked over to see Yakov glaring at them, his arms crossed. 

“Ya, ya. Be there in a moment,” Victor said, waving him off. 

“Yuuri, maybe you should sit in the stands this time,” Yakov said. 

“No, he’s staying with me. Go help Georgi and stop pestering us.” Victor started doing the motions of his free skate again from the beginning.

Yakov glared at Yuuri, who just shrugged his shoulders. If Victor wanted him there, he was staying.

Yakov threw up his hands and muttered in Russian as he left.

“He’s such a grumpy pants.” Victor twirled on the spot. 

“Grumpy pants?” Yuuri repeated, giggling behind his hand.

“Isn’t that a thing?”

“Maybe if you were like, seventy years old,” Yuuri teased. “Oh wait. I forgot, you _are_ really old.” 

Victor stuck his tongue out at him, and Yuuri laughed again, his nervousness completely gone.

 

 

* * *

Victor did his wave’s warm-up, but then they still had to wait while several skaters competed. 

Finally, the last skater before Victor went out onto the ice. 

“Vitya,” Yakov called out. “Time to walk down to the rink.”

Victor took Yuuri’s hand, just as he had the day before, and they walked with Yakov down the hall.

Once again, the entire stadium erupted in applause as Victor walked out.

Victor waved and smiled, then unzipped his training jacket, handing it to Yuuri. Victor’s free skate outfit was a beautiful pink military-style coat with gold embellishments, and a white shirt underneath. It made his eyes appear stunningly blue, and his long pale throat looked delectable over the collar. 

The crowd applauded as Maxim finished his free skate. As soon as he left the ice, though, they immediately started chanting Victor’s name again. 

Victor turned to Yuuri, his eyes warm.

Before he could say anything, Yuuri grabbed his hands over the boards. “You’re going to be amazing. You’re going to win.”

He kissed the backs of each of Victor’s hands, looking up to see Victor’s nose turn pink.

“Good luck, Vitya.” Yuuri said. 

“I told you, remember? You’re my luck.” Grinning, Victor skated out to the middle of the rink.

He settled into his starting pose: hands at his sides, head bent, one leg slightly behind the other.  As the soft opening notes began, Victor raised his head, brushing his hand down his face and twirling, pulling his arms closer to himself.

_Sento una voce che piange lontano_

Victor raised his left hand to the ceiling, then knelt dramatically, getting up again and sweeping his long arms gracefully around as he twirled. 

_Anche tu, sei stato forse abbandonato?_

Victor launched into his first quad—a lutz—and Yuuri felt his heart leap as Victor landed it perfectly, the crowd cheering.

 _Orsù finisco presto questo calice di vino_  
_e inizio a prepararmi_  
_Adesso fa’ silenzio_

Victor skated around and did his quad flip, his signature move. Yuuri clutched at his chest, aware that there were cameras all around, taking pictures of him as he watched. He knew he must look like a lovestruck fool…because that’s what he was.

A reporter appeared at his side. “Mr. Katsuki, can I ask you a couple of questions?”

“I’m watching Victor’s free skate right now,” Yuuri said dismissively.

“It will just take a moment,” she pleaded. “You haven’t spoken to the press since your wedding, and your fans are dying to know more.”

Yuuri glanced over at Victor, who was in the middle of a beautiful camel spin, and sighed. “Fine. Three questions.”

The reporter looked gleeful. “Okay. First, what is it about you that made Victor settle down? Why you?”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes, feeling irritated already. “I have absolutely no idea. I think you’d have to ask Victor that.”

She looked frustrated with herself. “Um. Right. Um, why did you decide to change your short program? Was it Victor’s idea?” 

“It was. He wanted to play to my strengths more, and I’m very pleased with the result. I’m hoping it will give me a little extra oomph and help me get to Worlds. Last question.” 

She chewed her lip, pausing for a moment. “Why do you love Victor?” she asked bluntly. 

Yuuri blinked at her, stunned. He hadn’t been expecting that question. He looked over at the rink, where Victor was launching into his final step sequence, flying gracefully over the ice.

“I mean, have you _seen_ him?” he said incredulously.

The reporter laughed. “We all love this Victor—the one everyone else sees—but I think your fans would like to know what it is about him that _you_ love. The Victor none of us get to see.”

Yuuri glanced down, chewing his lip, wondering if he should even answer at all.

 _It might be the only time you ever get to say how you really feel about him_ , a voice in the back of his head said.

After a long moment he met her eyes again. “I love so many things about Victor that I couldn’t tell you all of them,” he said honestly. “I’ve always admired him from afar, as most skaters do, because he’s objectively the best skater of all time. But apart from that, he’s the best _person_ I know. He’s like… light in a dark place. He brings me joy every day, even when he makes me repeat a quad so many times in practice that I want to hate him. I didn’t know I had been missing out on so many different things—so much of _myself_ —before I met him.” 

He paused. “I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t met Victor, but I know for sure I would never have known love like this. I wouldn’t have truly understood everything that life has to give.”

The reporter looked stunned, tears glistening in her eyes, and she nodded at her cameraman. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. Yuuri felt his cheeks heat as he nodded, turning back to watch Victor skate the finale. 

Victor landed his quad toe loop, triple toe loop combo gorgeously, and twirled into his final combination spin.

 _Partiamo insieme_  
_Ora sono pronto_

He froze in his final pose: arms wrapped around himself, staring up at the ceiling. The crowd roared, and Yuuri cheered along with them. Victor dropped his arms, panting, and took a long bow, cameras flashing everywhere.

As Victor waved and picked a few tokens up from the ice, Yuuri walked around to meet him at the kiss and cry. Victor skated over and swept him into a hug amid even more cheers.

“Here, this is for you.” He handed Yuuri a giant, hot pink teddy bear.

Yuuri laughed. “What am I going to do with this?”

“Take it home,” Victor shrugged, putting on his skate guards and walking over to the bench.

“The sit spin could have been more controlled,” Yakov said as they sat down.

“I thought it was fine,” Victor said airily. 

He turned to Yuuri, taking his hand. “What did you think? Am I still able to surprise the audience?” 

“I don’t know about them, but speaking for myself—every single time you skate, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time.”

“Really?” Victor said, his smile a little lopsided.

Yuuri squeezed his hand, smiling back. “Always.”

The entire crowd roared deafeningly, and Yuuri looked up at the giant screen to see Victor’s score. Of course, Victor had won gold by a landslide. When he turned back, however, Victor wasn’t standing up and waving at the crowds. He wasn’t even looking up at the board.

The entire crowd was on its feet cheering for seven-time Russian National Champion Victor Nikiforov, but… Victor was still looking at Yuuri.

Victor cupped Yuuri’s face with both hands. “Thank you,” he said. 

“F—for what?” Yuuri managed to choke out.

Victor leaned inward a little, until their lips were almost touching, but not quite. “Okay?” he asked, his eyes darting over Yuuri’s face. 

Yuuri froze, unable to speak. But Victor didn’t move further until Yuuri said, breathlessly, “Yes.”

Victor smiled and closed the precious final few millimeters that had remained a barrier between them until now. Just before their lips met, Yuuri inhaled sharply, unable to believe that it was finally happening. 

When Victor’s lips met his, Yuuri felt the entire world narrow down to that one point of contact. Victor’s mouth was soft, and hot, and Yuuri felt a surge of _want_ more deep than anything he’d ever felt before. Yuuri opened his mouth just a little, to taste the lips he had been dreaming about for what felt like a lifetime. He reached up to touch Victor’s cheek, and he was surprised to notice that Victor was trembling. 

Victor let his lips part just a little, and there was the hint of something more... the promise of a deeper kiss. 

Before the kiss could tip into anything more heated, though, Victor pulled back, just enough to rest their foreheads against one another. Yuuri stared directly into his bright blue eyes, which were still focused only on him. For a moment, Yuuri felt like his entire being was connected to Victor’s. 

Yakov nudged Victor’s shoulder. “Get up and wave to your fans, Vitya,” he said gruffly. 

Victor smiled so brightly that Yuuri’s heart flip-flopped in his chest. He stood up and waved, and the crowd roared thunderously. Yuuri stood up with him, his legs feeling wobbly.

He looked out at the flashing lights, at thousands of people on their feet waving Russian flags.

The kiss had only lasted only a couple of seconds. To the people in the audience, it must have looked like a normal celebration, something they would be used to doing if they were a real couple. And it hadn’t meant anything to Victor, he knew that. 

But Yuuri felt like he’d fundamentally changed in those two seconds. He’d kissed Victor, _finally_ , and this time, he was going to remember it for the rest of his life.

 

 

* * *

Victor came off the ice after the medal ceremony, beaming. He handed his flowers to Yuuri and took his jacket.

“I have to do press, but I’ll tell them I can’t stay long,” he said. “We need to get to the airport.” 

“Mmm.” Yuuri didn’t trust himself to form a full sentence; he was still too focused on Victor’s lips. He already wanted to kiss him again. 

“You okay?” Victor took his hand, leading him toward the press room.

“Mmmm.”

Victor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

The reporters immediately started shouting and taking photographs when they entered the room. Victor kissed Yuuri on the cheek, then left him standing near the door to walk onto the dias.

“Settle down,” Victor said to the reporters, pretending to glare, and several of them laughed.

He sat down, folding his hands on the table. “So, what’s new?”

They laughed again, and Victor flashed a brilliant smile.

Several of the reporters raised their hands. Victor pointed at one of them. “André.”

“Victor, now that you’ve secured gold at Nationals seven times in a row, what’s next?” 

Victor shrugged. “Well, European Championships and then Worlds, of course. But first, we are going to Yuuri’s Nationals in Sapporo.”

Victor nodded at a woman with bleach-blond hair next. “Do you think you can win gold at the World Championship for the fifth time?” she asked.

“It’s possible, but my husband could definitely steal the title from me.”

A lot of cameras turned to Yuuri, who blushed, half waving. 

“Victor! Victor!” several reporters called out, and Victor pointed at an older man. 

“Victor, what makes you think Katsuki can beat you?” 

“That’s something you’ll have to wait and find out. But I will say, his talent could surpass us all.” 

“Didn’t you say that you wouldn’t discuss your personal life while at a competition?” the same reporter asked. 

Victor frowned. “I don’t think talking about how great of a skater he is counts as discussing my personal life, it’s just a fact I would observe about any amazing skater.”

“What are you going to change before Worlds?” a woman asked.

“Nothing right now. We’ll see. Maybe I’ll surprise you.” Victor smiled, standing up. “Now Yuuri and I have to get to the airport. I’m sure we will have more opportunities to answer questions after he wins gold at his Nationals.”

There were a lot more flashing lights as Victor walked over to him, and they left the press room together.

“That was short,” Yuuri said. 

“It’s always the same, they always want to know my strategy, as if I would tell them. I’d rather not do it at all, but Nadiya makes me. I’m just thankful they didn’t ask any more prying questions about us. I just need to shower quickly and we can go. Do you need to do anything else before we head to the airport?” 

Yuuri shook his head, feeling distracted. He shouldn’t have said so much in the interview during Victor’s free skate; he was lucky none of the other reporters seemed to know about it yet. It had been too much of the truth. He could only hope that Victor would never find out.

 

 

* * *

There were a lot of paparazzi at the airport again, but once they got through security they only had to deal with secretive phone pictures for the most part.

“I need a book for the plane, do you want anything?” Victor asked, stopping at a newsstand with paperback novels and candy. He picked up a romance novel that sported a bare-chested man in a cowboy hat on the cover. 

Yuuri eyed the chocolate-covered pretzels—one of his favorite pre-competition binge foods—for a long moment. “No,” he said firmly.

“You sure?” Victor put down the book and picked up a Cosmo magazine, which sported a quiz on the front: _How to know if he’s just leading you on!_

“I’m probably just going to sleep on the plane.” Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri saw four girls staring at Victor and elbowing each other.

“You’re about to get swarmed,” Yuuri said out of the side of his mouth.

“Huh?”

Just as Yuuri had predicted, the girls all walked up to Victor and started talking simultaneously.

"Виктор! Я ваша фанатка. Можно автограф?"[1] one girl asked. 

"Я тоже! Селфи?"[2] another girl asked. 

“Конечно,”[3] Victor said, smiling his fake smile.

Soon Victor was surrounded by girls, and Yuuri started edging away.

“Traitor,” Victor whispered at him, starting to sign autographs. 

“I’m going to the bathroom, see you at the gate,” Yuuri said over his shoulder.

His phone pinged as he was walking away. He pulled it out of his pocket; it was Phichit.

 _YUURI_  
_OH MY GOD_  
_The photos of you at the kiss and cry are EVERYWHERE._ _(5:23 pm)_  

_Oh god. What are people saying? (5:24)_

_Well for one thing, they are all talking about the kiss._  
_But of course they don’t know it’s really the only time_  
_you’ve ever kissed him. Since they all have seen the_  
_photos of you at the wedding night and all. But the_  
_interview is what most people are focusing on… (5:25 pm)_

Yuuri’s heart sunk.

 _I don’t even remember half of what I said._  
_What did I say? (5:25 pm)_

 _You went on and on about how Victor was your_  
_light or some shit and that you’d never have been_  
_the same without knowing him and loving him._  
_I mean, it was some of the most romantic and_  
_beautiful, corny stuff I have ever heard, Yuuri. And_  
_I love musicals. MUSICALS. I knew you loved him_  
_but I didn’t know it was like THAT. (5:26 pm)_

Yuuri looked over his shoulder at Victor, who was smiling as a girl took a selfie with him.

  
_It is like that. I just hope he doesn’t find_  
_out what I said in that interview. It could_  
_ruin everything (5:26 pm)_

 _Well, just steal his phone and delete his Insta_  
_and Twitter or something. I donno (5:27 pm)_

_Yeah right. (5:27 pm)_

_….so??? How was it? (5:28 pm)_

_What? (5:28 pm)_

_The KISS. (5:29 pm)_

_Oh. Well._  
_It was… phenomenal. (5:29 pm)_

 _I am so torn, because I want to be like_  
_ATTA BOY but at the same time… :( (5:29 pm)_

_Yeah. Pretty much. (5:30 pm)_

_We need to talk more about this but I gotta go._  
_Good luck at Nationals!!!! Kick ass! (5:30 pm)_

_Thanks Phichit. Miss you. (5:31 pm)_

_I miss you too. (5:31 pm)_

Yuuri sighed, pocketing his phone and heading over to the water fountain to fill up his bottle for the plane.

 

  

* * *

Twenty minutes later, their flight was starting to board and Yuuri was waiting impatiently by the gate.

Victor finally came over, looking harried.

“I was starting to wonder if they’d kidnapped you and had you in a basement somewhere,” Yuuri said.

Victor glared at him. “I can’t believe you abandoned me. More and more people started coming up, it was like a flood. I really wish I wasn’t so recognizable sometimes.”

“The mask helps,” Yuuri said, pointing at his face. Victor gave their tickets to the flight attendant, who scanned them and handed them back. 

“That’s true. I just feel like it would make me… what is the word? Clarophobic?”

“Claustrophobic, I think,” Yuuri corrected.

“Yeah, _that_ sounds like a real word.” Victor rolled his eyes.

“It is!” Yuuri protested. 

They walked down the jetway and onto the plane. Victor handed their tickets to the flight attendant, a blonde woman with her hair in a smooth bun and bright red lips.

She smiled at them. “Mr. Nikiforov, Mr. Katsuki, welcome! This way please.” 

The attendant led them to the front of the plane, where there were not many seats and they were spaced widely apart. She stopped at a pair of seats that were facing each other on a diagonal, so it was like they had their own little corner.

“Here you are, gentlemen. Would you like champagne before we take off?” 

“No, thank you,” Yuuri said. At the same time, Victor brightened and said, “Yes, please!”

Yuuri gave him a long look. 

“Yuuri, we are celebrating my win!” Victor pouted.

“No alcohol this close to a competition,” Yuuri said firmly, taking out his phone and his game player before stowing his bag overhead. 

“I’ll have his,” Victor told the attendant, who smiled again, her teeth brilliantly white. “Let me know if there is anything else you require.” 

“Should you really be drinking that much when we are going to be flying for twelve hours?” Yuuri asked.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve had worse,” Victor said, shrugging.

Yuuri sat down, settling into the comfortable seat. The tickets must have cost a fortune, but it would be worth it; he wouldn’t be nearly as tired when they arrived as he would be if they'd flown coach.

The attendant came back with two glasses of champagne. “We will be taking off soon, please sit down and buckle your seatbelts,” she said.

“Cheers!” Victor said, holding a glass in each hand.

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

 

 

* * *

A couple hours into the flight and several empty champagne flutes later, Victor was leaning against his fist, staring at Yuuri with drooping eyes. 

“Yuuuuuuuri,” Victor slurred.

Yuuri looked up from his game. “Um. Yeah?”

“You’re preeeeetty.”

Yuuri laughed.“Um. Thank you. But I’m really not.” 

Victor’s arm dropped and his head almost went with it. “Psh. Don’t say that. You’re like, the _most_ pretty,” he insisted. 

Yuuri felt himself blush. “You’re just drunk. Beer goggles.” 

Victor shook his head. “No. You're always beautiful.” 

Yuuri pursed his lips. Victor probably wouldn’t even remember this conversation, so he could say whatever he wanted. “Not as beautiful as you,” he said. “You're the most beautiful man I have ever seen.” 

“Yuuuuuuri!” Victor blushed and put his head in his hands.

“You're somehow cuter when you're drunk,” Yuuri pointed out. “I'm not sure that's even fair.” 

“This champagne is soooo good, you should have some. I know how much you like champagne,” Victor said, winking. 

“I… what?” Yuuri took his headphones off. “What are you talking about?”

Victor waved his hand. “Never mind.” He picked up his Cosmo magazine and opened it, squinting at the page.

The flight attendant came back. “Are you finished, sir?” she asked.

“I think we need some food,” Yuuri said. “When is dinner being served?”

“Shortly.”

“I’ll have another,” Victor said, pointing to his champagne glass. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but he didn’t protest. Victor was a grown man, after all.

After dinner, Victor dropped off, drooling a little bit onto his pillow. Yuuri got up and pushed the button on Victor’s chair to make it recline all the way, and pulled his blanket up over his chest. He smoothed Victor’s hair back, kissing his temple.

“Goodnight, Vitya,” he whispered, before going back to his own chair to get some sleep.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri woke up curled on his side, facing the window. He glanced at his phone; he’d slept for a good nine hours, which was far more than he usually managed on a plane. 

He yawned, moving his chair back up to a sitting position and putting on his glasses. Victor was still snoozing, his blanket pulled up to his chin. His silver eyelashes were fluttering against his pale cheeks.

Yuuri got up from his seat quietly, and took the present out of his suitcase from the overhead compartment. The wrapping paper was slightly wrinkled, but it still looked passable.

“Good morning,” the blonde flight attendant said as she approached him. 

Yuuri held his index finger up to his lips, tilting his head toward Victor.

She nodded. “Can I get you anything?” she asked quietly.

“Black tea for me, coffee for him. Both with milk. Is there breakfast?”

“Pancakes and eggs, yes.” 

Yuuri sighed. Pancakes were a little too much sugar for him the day before a competition, but it would have to do. Victor would definitely need food after all that alcohol. “Okay, we’ll both have some, thank you.” 

When she walked away, Yuuri put the package on Victor’s side table and sat back down. While he waited for his tea, he put his headphones in and listened to some music, watching the clouds go by out the window. 

The flight attendant returned a little later with a pot of tea for Yuuri and coffee for Victor, setting them each on their side tables.

Victor groaned a little, shifting in his seat. One of his eyes opened, peeking at Yuuri through his messy hair.

“Regretting the sixth glass of champagne right about now, eh?” Yuuri asked, pouring himself some tea and adding some milk. 

Victor grumbled something under his breath, and Yuuri smiled.

“I got you coffee,” he said. 

Victor yawned, scrunching up a little more in his seat.

“Fine, be that way, but it’s going to go cold.” 

Victor sighed, opening his eyes and turning over to look at the side table, and he froze when he saw the present. 

“Happy Birthday. And Merry Christmas.” Yuuri sipped his tea.

Victor sat up, his hair in complete disarray. “You know my birthday?” 

 _Only since I was twelve_. Yuuri shrugged. “I looked it up.”

Victor’s eyes lit up. He grabbed the package, putting it in his lap. “What is it?”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow at him. “You do understand the concept of wrapping presents, don’t you?”

Victor gave him a scathing look, then quickly started unwrapping it. Yuuri wasn’t surprised that he was too impatient to even have some coffee before he opened it.

Victor discarded the wrapping, revealing a small-ish brown cardboard box. He opened it slowly, and pulled out the styrofoam. 

Yuuri tried not to show his nervousness. He’d never given a significant other (fake or not) a birthday present before, and he wasn’t sure if he’d gotten it right.

He clenched his fists a little as Victor pulled the gift out: a snowglobe. In the center there was a small brown poodle, tongue lolling, sitting in a bed of snow.

Victor stared down at it for a what felt like an interminably long time without saying anything.

“Uh. If you don’t like it, it’s okay,” Yuuri said eventually, unable to take it any longer. “I just… I saw it online, and it looked like Makka… and I don’t know, um. It reminded me of that day we went walking in the snow, and I know you miss him when you go away for competitions, so… It’s kind of silly, I know.” He realized he was rambling, but it was hard to stop. 

Victor looked up at him, his eyes glinting. “No one has ever given me a present like this before.”

Yuuri squirmed in his seat. “I know it’s not very expensive or anything...”

“I don’t want expensive gifts.” Victor shook the snow globe and the little bits of ‘snow’ fell down around the tiny dog, and a single tear fell down Victor’s cheek. “It’s perfect.”

Victor got up, striding the small distance over to Yuuri, and hugged him. “Thank you, _zolotse_. It’s the best gift I have ever gotten. I love…” he sniffled. “I love it.”

Yuuri turned his nose into Victor’s hair, which still smelled a little like peppermint despite the fact that they had been traveling for a long time. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to give you your presents later,” Victor said.

“Presents? _Plural_? I thought you don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“I don’t, but I felt like it this year,” Victor said, releasing him. He walked back over to his seat and poured himself some coffee. Yuuri was about to ask him why, but the flight attendant had come back with their breakfast trays.

 

 

* * *

They landed in Tokyo in the early morning, and Yuuri immediately felt a little surge of relief at being back in his home country, even though they were much farther north than where his family lived.

They had a two hour connecting flight from Tokyo to Sapporo, and by the time they finally arrived in Chitose Airport, Yuuri was starting to feel antsy.

He looked out the window of their car, flipping his phone in his hands, anxious to get out on the ice. He didn’t realize he had been bouncing his foot until Victor reached out and steadied it.

“Sorry,” Yuuri said.

“No, it’s fine, just… are you alright?” Victor asked. He didn’t move his hand from Yuuri’s knee.

“Yeah, I just want to get to practice.” 

Victor moved closer, taking Yuuri’s hand.

“You’re going to be great. Remember that. Your confidence in yourself and your ability is the most important thing. You have done all the work. Now it’s just about letting yourself shine."

Yuuri sighed. “It’s hard for me to believe in myself.”

Victor squeezed his hand. “I know.” 

When they finally arrived at the rink, there were a lot of paparazzi outside, as Yuuri was coming to expect. He and Victor ducked through the flashing lights until they got inside, and Yuuri got in line to check in. 

The skater in front of him took his credentials and turned around, almost bumping into Yuuri, who was looking at his phone and not paying attention. 

“ _Yuuri! I was hoping I’d see you soon_ ,” Yuzuru said in Japanese. 

“ _Hey, Yuzuru!_ ” Yuuri hugged him, happy to see his old friend. “ _How are you_?”

“ _I’m good. I had a little hamstring problem earlier in the season, after the Cup of China, but I’m fine now. But enough about me, what about you? I heard you got married… to Victor Nikiforov_.” He smiled again. Yuuri had once thought his sweet demeanor was an act, but eventually he had realized that it was completely sincere.

“ _Yeah, it’s a long story… for another time, maybe. It’s going to be great to skate against you again._ ” Yuuri said, changing the subject.

“ _My coach says you completely changed your short program from the one you did in the Grand Prix_?” 

“ _Yeah, Victor choreographed it for me. There’s more emphasis on spins and step sequences_.”

“ _I’m looking forward to seeing it! You are always so good at those_.”

“ _Now if only I could do quads like you, I’d be golden_ ,” Yuuri said.

Yuzuru laughed. 

Victor walked up to them. “Hi, Yuzuru!” he said in English, holding out his hand. “Good to see you.” 

“Nice to see you as well, Victor,” Yuzuru replied, shaking his hand. “Congratulations on winning Russian Nationals again.”

“Thanks. I’m just hoping Yuuri wins too,” Victor said, winking at Yuuri. “I want to compete with him for the gold at Worlds.”

“I don’t have to win to go to Worlds, I just have to place top three,” Yuuri pointed out, embarrassed. 

Yuzuru smiled good-naturedly. “I hope we will both be on the podium. See you out on the ice!” He waved and picked up his gear bag, walking toward the rink. 

“He’s so nice,” Victor said.

“Yeah, he’s what Phichit calls a ‘pure soul,’” Yuuri said, walking up to the check-in table. “Katsuki Yuuri.”

 

 

* * *

When he was finally able to glide out onto the ice, Yuuri immediately felt better. He could keep his nerves in check if he went through his whole program and all his jumps were clean.

He warmed up, then skated over to Victor, who was standing behind the boards. 

“How do you feel? Okay?”

Yuuri stretched his head from side to side. “Yeah. It feels good to stretch my legs.”

“Okay, run through Eros, but just mark your jumps.”

Yuuri frowned. “But Victor, I—”

“I don’t want you to fall this close to the competition. It’s bad for your confidence.” 

“But—”  

“Who is the coach here?” Victor interrupted. “Remember what happened in Yekaterinburg?” 

Yuuri scowled, wishing he hadn’t brought that up. “Fine.” 

Yuuri skated out and ran through his short program, trying to remember everything Inessa had told him. He didn’t want to show his full Eros potential to his competitors yet, so he kept it a little subdued. There was plenty of time for that during the short program. 

As he skated, he watched Yuzuru out of the corner of his eye. He was off in a corner, practicing quad after quad, landing them all perfectly. The competitive instinct inside Yuuri reared its ugly head and he was itching to jump. 

Once Yuuri had gone through his short program once, marking the jumps as instructed, he skated over to Victor. 

Victor nodded. “Good. Remember to keep your leg up higher during the camel spin. Now go through it again. No jumps.” 

Yuuri glared at him, but didn’t argue. As he skated back into the center of the rink, he saw Yuzuru land a quad lutz gracefully.

Yuuri started the program, letting the music flow through his body. 

When it was time for him to spread eagle into his triple axel, he glanced over at Victor, and did the jump.

He saw Victor’s slightly disgruntled face as he skated by, but Victor didn’t tell him to stop. Yuuri ran through the rest of the program, landing all his jumps cleanly, even his quad sal.

Once he was done, he skated over to Victor.

“You deliberately disobeyed me,” Victor grumbled, handing him his water bottle.

“It was fine, though,” Yuuri shrugged. 

Victor sighed, shaking his head. “Okay, just go through your quad loop, triple loop combo a couple of times, then we should go. You need to save your legs for tomorrow.”

“But—”

“I mean it, Yuuri. You need rest and food now. End of discussion.” 

Yuuri knew Victor was right, but he really wanted to keep practicing to help his anxiety. He skated back out into the rink, passing Yuzuru, who waved. 

Yuuri smiled back. He knew he could qualify even if he didn’t beat Yuzuru, but he wanted to win. After his disastrous showing at the Grand Prix Final… he had to.

 

 

* * *

The hotel their car brought them to was extravagant, especially for Japan. Yuuri was starting to expect no less from the places Nadiya chose for them. 

They walked up to the front desk. “English?” Victor asked.

The young man behind the desk shook his head. 

“ _Checking in, Nikiforov_ ,” Yuuri said in Japanese. 

The man typed something in his computer. “ _I have you here for three nights, in the Imperial Suite_.” 

“Did you mean to have it for three nights?” Yuuri said to Victor in English. 

“Yeah, I thought we could spend one more night here after your free skate, before we go to your parents’. Especially since you’ll be tired from competing.” 

Yuuri nodded. “ _That’s right_ ,” he said to the man, switching back to Japanese. 

“ _Here are your cards. Let us know if there is anything we can do to make you more comfortable_ ,” the man said.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Yuuri said, taking the card carrier.

“We are in something called the Imperial Suite, apparently,” Yuuri said to Victor as they walked away. “I hope that’s not another honeymoon suite.” 

Victor snorted. “No. But it’s the nicest room they have.”

“You really do go all out,” Yuuri said as they stepped into the elevator.

Victor shrugged. “I just like being comfortable.”

They got to the top floor and walked over to their room, but Victor didn’t open the door right away.

“Your first present should be set up. I just want to go in and make sure it’s ready. Wait here.” 

“Set up? Oh god, what did you get me? It better not have been something obscenely expensive,” Yuuri said, crossing his arms.

“It wasn’t, I promise. It was a bit hard to get it here on short notice, but Nadiya will be getting a good bonus this year. Just wait here, okay?” 

Yuuri nodded. Victor opened the door a crack, sliding in so that Yuuri couldn’t see inside.

After a couple of minutes, Victor came back out, grinning widely. “It’s perfect.” He took Yuuri’s gear bag from him. “Close your eyes for me, okay?” 

Yuuri narrowed his eyes skeptically, but Victor gave him his puppy-dog look. “Please?”

Yuuri sighed and obeyed. Victor took his hands and led him inside, closing the door behind them and putting Yuuri’s gear bag down. 

“Keep them closed!” 

“I am. Just don’t lead me into the wall.”

He heard Victor giggle. Yuuri smiled at the sound; he’d never heard Victor _giggle_ before.

Victor led him a little further, until eventually they stopped.

“The suspense is killing me,” Yuuri said.

“Okay.” Victor let his hands go. “Now.”

Yuuri opened his eyes, and gasped. Directly in front of him—to his astonishment—was a Christmas tree.

It was about a foot taller than him, strung with hundreds of lights that were blinking in all different colors. There were icicle ornaments and bulbs hung all over, and at the top was perched a golden star.

Yuuri stepped forward, a bit in awe, feeling one of the branches and holding his hand up to his nose. He could smell spruce; it was real.

Victor had gotten him a _goddamn Christmas tree_.

Yuuri felt choked up. “Victor.”

“Do… you like it?”

He turned around to see Victor watching him intently, seeming a little nervous.

Yuuri closed the distance between them and pulled Victor into a tight hug.

“I love it. Thank you,” he said softly.

Victor sighed contentedly, raising one hand to the back of Yuuri’s head. “I’m glad.”

Yuuri could hear the smile in Victor’s voice. He turned his face into Victor’s neck, unable to stop himself from nuzzling into it a little bit. 

 _God, how could I not fall in love with you, when you do things like this?_ Yuuri thought. 

“Do you want to watch Die Hard now?” Victor asked. “I brought it with me.” 

Yuuri laughed, releasing him. “We don’t have to do all my traditions, you know. It’s your birthday. What’s your favorite movie?”

Victor pressed his finger to his lips. “Well, it’s still early. We can watch Die Hard first, then watch my choice, and still get you to bed in plenty of time.”

Yuuri ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, I guess. It’s not like I’d be doing anything other than letting my nerves run wild.”

“Great!” Victor bounced over to his suitcase like a puppy to retrieve the DVD. 

Victor made a lot of ridiculous comments during the movie, and Yuuri had more fun than he’d ever had watching it.

“Does Bruce wear that dirty wife beater for the _whole_ movie?” he asked incredulously at one point.

“I thought you owned it.” 

Victor made a face. “Chris gave it to me, but I’ve never actually watched it, to be honest.” 

Yuuri looked at him with shock. 

“I don’t know, I’m not a huge fan of action movies. This is so…”

“Campy?” Yuuri supplied.

“Yes.” 

“Well that’s part of the appeal.” 

“Why didn’t they just wait until after the party was over to rob the place? It seems like it would have been a lot easier.”

“Stop questioning the greatness that is Die Hard and just watch the goddamn movie,” Yuuri said. 

“Hmph.” Victor turned his attention to the screen again. 

By the time Bruce had saved the day, Yuuri was feeling tired but not sleepy yet, and strangely content. He realized that he had yet to feel truly nervous, like he normally did right before a competition. 

“Time for your other tradition,” Victor said, switching to Christmas music and standing up. 

“We don’t have to—” 

“I insist.” 

Victor turned out all the lights, and put some pillows on the floor by the tree, then walked back over to the couch and held out his hand. Yuuri took it, feeling a little self-conscious. 

He led Yuuri over to the tree, and he lay down underneath it. Yuuri sighed, letting himself be brought down to the ground. He put his head on a pillow, and they looked up at the lights twinkling, the music quieting his nerves.

The way the lights twinkled, the glass of the ornaments reflecting to the ceiling, was calming and hypnotic. It wasn’t the same without Phichit, but Victor’s solid presence next to his was different, in a good way.

“This is lovely,” Victor said after several minutes. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri agreed. “It is.”

He turned to look at Victor, whose face was bathed in a rainbow of colors from the tree. He realized that Victor had done all of this—planned it all—while he had been in the middle of a competition. While he had been skating for a national title, he had been thinking of Yuuri, of making him happy.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” Yuuri said softly. 

Victor’s lips curled upward, and he reached over to squeeze Yuuri’s hand. 

“I had some selfish motivations.”

“Oh?”

Victor just smiled, his eyes a little sad, and he looked back up at the tree.

 

 

* * *

Eventually, their backs protested too much and they had to get up from the hard floor.

“What do you want for dinner? Katsudon?” Victor asked, stretching.

“No, I can’t have it unless I win.” Yuuri smiled. 

“Right, of course. I don’t feel like cooking tonight, though. How about I order something?”

“I might have to do it, since they don’t seem to speak a lot of English at this hotel,” Yuuri pointed out. He picked up the menu, which was in Japanese. “Anything you want in particular?” 

“Hmmmm. I’d like some kind of donburi, and seaweed salad. I’m going to go shower, I still feel like I have airplane hair.” 

“You do.” 

Victor gasped in mock-shock, running his hand through his hair. “Yuuuuuri,” he pouted. 

“I’m just agreeing with you.”

“I’m _definitely_ showering now. Conditioning twice.”

Yuuri laughed, shaking his head and picking up the phone to order their food as Victor walked away, still smoothing at his hair and frowning.

When he came back from a rather long shower, wearing a thin t-shirt with his grey sweatpants, and the food had arrived.

“This looks delicious.” Victor picked up the chicken donburi and immediately started eating. “Vkusno!" 

“If you like that, you’re going to love my mom’s katsudon,” Yuuri said, picking up his own dish and starting to eat. 

“Okay, time for my movie!” Victor said gleefully, picking up the remote as he continued to eat with the other hand. “I hope they have it on demand.” 

He flicked through the options before making a noise of triumph, and he made the selection on the screen to buy the movie. 

“Moulin Rouge,” Yuuri said.

“Yup.”

“Moulin Rouge is your favorite movie.”

“Yes.” 

“Moulin Rouge.” 

“ _Yes_ , it is. The more times you say it doesn’t make it less true.” 

“I actually have never seen it, to be honest.”

Victor’s eyes were glittering with excitement. “You’re in for a treat, then!” 

He pushed play, and immediately started humming along with the opening song, his mouth full. 

Yuuri tried not to laugh, because he didn’t want to choke.

Phichit had tried to get Yuuri to watch the movie before—because of his penchant for musicals—but it had never really appealed to him. Most Baz Luhrmann movies were a little too frenetic for him. 

But doing almost anything with Victor, including watching a movie, always made Yuuri see it through new eyes. 

Victor knew every word of every song, and he was even mouthing a lot of the lines in between. The movie itself was actually very good, but soon Yuuri was more entertained by how much Victor was enjoying it. He was like a little kid, holding a pillow to his stomach, entranced. 

Yuuri had thought that all of the romantic comedies on his shelf were just because Victor had bad taste in movies, but eventually he started to realize… it was because Victor was a romantic.

About halfway through, the two leads started singing a love duet. Just like all the other songs, Victor knew every word. 

“ _Never knew I could feel like this_ ,” Victor sang, his voice a lovely, smooth baritone. “ _Like I’ve never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside your kiss, every day I love you more and more_.” 

Yuuri’s hands clenched in the sofa cushions. He wasn’t even looking at the screen anymore, just watching Victor. 

“ _Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing? Telling me to give you everything? Seasons may change winter to spring…”_  

The different colored lights from the Christmas tree bathed his face in light, and Victor’s hair was glinting a little, his eyes appearing darker than usual. Yuuri felt like time had suspended; like they were they only two people in the world, and Victor’s voice singing the love song had put him under some kind of spell.

“ _But I love you, until the end of time.”_

Yuuri gulped. 

“This is the best part,” Victor said after the first chorus. He stood up, holding out his hand. “C’mon, let’s dance.” 

“No, I—” Yuuri started to protest.

“It’ll be fun.”

He pulled Yuuri to his feet and started leading him in a waltz, singing along with the song. “ _Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place_ ,” he sang, smiling at Yuuri. “ _Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace. Suddenly my life doesn’t seem such a waste… it all revolves around you_.” 

He released Yuuri’s waist, twirling him around, then pulling him close again, pressing his cheek to Yuuri’s.

“ _And there’s no mountain too high, no river too wide. Sing out this song and I’ll be there by your side_.” 

Yuuri felt like his heart was about to give out. Victor was holding him, dancing with him, singing a love song to him. If this had been a normal circumstance, Yuuri would have broken down and kissed him by now. The fact that he knew what Victor’s lips tasted like, how they felt against his own… wasn’t helping. 

 _“Storm clouds may gather and storms may collide, but I love you... until the end of time_ ,” Victor sang, his voice much softer. 

He dipped Yuuri, slowly, his eyes lidded. 

 _I love you._ Yuuri’s whole body was singing with it, but he couldn’t say it. He’d never be able to say it. He just kept falling more and more in love with Victor every day, and it was a beautiful feeling, like his heart kept expanding until his chest wouldn’t take it anymore. At the same time, because Victor didn’t feel the same, it was like something sharp was lodged in his throat.

“ _Come what may, come what may_. _I will love you until my dying day_ ,” Victor sang gently.

Yuuri’s legs collapsed under him a little, his forehead hitting Victor’s shoulder. 

Victor took his weight, pulling him up to his feet. “Yuuri! Are you alright?”

“Sorry,” he said, his voice muffled into Victor’s shirt. “Two left feet.”

“Here,” Victor said, helping him to the couch and pausing the movie.“Do you want to lie down? Do you feel sick?”

“I’ll be okay,” Yuuri said, his cheeks heating.

Victor still looked concerned, and he knelt next to Yuuri on the couch. He pushed Yuuri’s hair up, feeling his forehead. 

Yuuri looked up at him, and he _yearned_ to push Victor down onto the couch and kiss him senseless.

But there was no one there to see it, so he couldn’t. There was no reason to.

Victor’s eyes met his, and he trailed his fingers down Yuuri’s cheek. Victor opened his mouth, as if he was about to say something, but instead he just licked his lips. 

Yuuri followed the movement. He felt himself leaning forward, just a little, like one magnet pulling toward another.

There was a knock on the suite door.

“That must be present number two,” Victor said, but he didn’t get up. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

Yuuri smiled, but his heart wasn’t in it. _I’m just in love with you. Unfortunately, it’s incurable._ “Yeah. I just can’t waltz, apparently.”

Victor laughed, running his thumb across Yuuri’s cheekbone. 

Another knock rang out, this time even louder. 

“You better get that,” Yuuri said. 

Victor sighed, getting up and walking over to the door. 

Yuuri pressed his hands into the couch, trying to steady himself. “How many presents _are_ there?” 

“Three, but one’s not coming until tomorrow.” Victor called over his shoulder. He opened the door, and walked back into the room with several suitcases that Yuuri had never seen before.

“What are those?” 

Victor brought them over to the couch and set them down. Yuuri got up slowly and sat down on the ground. 

“Open one,” Victor said. 

He opened the biggest trunk, and he out a little gasp when he saw what was inside: dozens of program costumes. _Victor’s_ costumes. He recognized them immediately.

Yuuri took the top one out and held it up: a silver and white costume that looked like snow and frost made into cloth, with sequins winking in the light.

“I had Nadiya ship my old costumes here. I thought you could choose one of them for your Eros program,” Victor explained.

“I was just going to wear the costume I had for my original short program,” Yuuri said, still a little in awe.

“I know, but I don’t think it really fits with Eros, do you?”

“No. You’re right. Victor, I…” Yuuri ducked his head, feeling overwhelmed.

“Well, try some of them on!” Victor urged. 

Yuuri opened the other three suitcases, looking at all the costumes. He pulled a few out, looking at them each in turn. “I have no idea which one…” he started to say, but then he saw it. 

He picked up the black costume with a mesh sleeve and silver accents, and held it up. 

Suddenly, he wasn’t twenty-three years old anymore. He wasn’t sitting in a hotel room, in front of a Christmas tree with Victor.

He was a twelve-year-old boy again, sitting in front of a an old-fashioned tube TV at Ice Castle Hasetsu, watching the Junior Grand Prix Finals, and it was the moment when he saw Victor for the first time. 

Victor was doing a layback spin, his long hair flowing behind him, contrasting with the black costume. His slim body was just starting to show the growth spurt that would bring him to a height above almost all skaters, and his natural grace on the ice was stunning. 

He was the most beautiful thing that Yuuri had ever seen. Yuuri’s eyes had widened, and he felt transfixed, watching every movement, every facial expression with reverence. And in that moment, he had realized why he never felt anything for the girls in his classes, the way the other boys seemed to.

Yuuri had gone home that night and stared at the ceiling for hours, unable to sleep, and he had _known._  

He had fallen asleep, dreaming of Victor flying over the ice… wearing the costume that twenty-three year old Yuuri was now holding in his hands.

Yuuri’s hands clenched a little. _What costume could possibly be more perfect to skate Eros in?_  

“Yuuri, are you alright?”

Yuuri blinked, focusing again on Victor’s face. He gave him a watery smile. “I’m okay. I just… I remember watching you win the Junior Grand Prix wearing this.” 

Victor smiled slowly. “You do?” 

Yuuri looked down again, knowing that Victor had no idea just what the costume—and Victor himself—meant to him. “Oh, yes.”

“Is this the one you want?” 

Yuuri nodded, smoothing the fabric under his fingers. “I want this one.” 

“Go try it on! Make sure it fits.”

Yuuri got up, his legs feeling a bit unsteady, and went to the bathroom off the living room. 

He fumbled with his clothes, trying to get them off quickly, then pulled the costume on reverently. He was careful not to rip the mesh, putting his hands in the glove-like sleeves slowly. When he was fully in it, he smoothed his hair back like he did in competitions, and tried to look at himself objectively. He put his arms up in a pose, and schooled his face into his Eros persona. 

 _It’s perfect_ , he thought. Mirror-Yuuri smirked, his entire being radiating seduction. 

“Is it on yet?” Victor asked, knocking on the door. 

“Yes. I can’t zip it up in the back though.”

“Let me in, I’ll do it.”

Yuuri flushed, walking over to the door. “Um, no, you can’t, it’s bad luck.”

He heard Victor laugh. “Very funny. Now let me in, we won’t know if it fits properly if you don’t zip it up.” 

Yuuri rested his forehead against the door and sighed. Victor was right, but for some reason this felt too... intimate. 

“Okay,” he said, steeling himself before opening the door. 

Victor’s eyes widened, raking down Yuuri’s body and back up slowly.

Yuuri tried not to squirm. “What do you think?”

“I… um.” Victor cleared his throat. “I think it’s perfect.”

Yuuri walked over to him, letting his hips move the way Inessa had showed him, and turned around. 

“Go ahead,” he said over his shoulder.

Victor pulled the fabric together, his fingers brushing the skin at the small of Yuuri’s back. He zipped the costume up slowly, making sure that the fabric didn’t snag. The tiny brushes of his fingertips against Yuuri’s back made him shiver. 

Once Victor finished zipping it, he pulled the back of the neck together, hooking it, then rested his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. 

Yuuri turned around, and Victor was so, so close—close enough that Yuuri could see the slight flush dusting his nose and cheeks. Victor’s hair had fallen a little into his eyes, but his gaze was intensely focused on Yuuri. 

“It fits,” Yuuri blurted out. 

Victor smiled, and he stepped back a little. “Try moving in it.”

Yuuri did a few movements from his program, twirling on the spot and moving his arms. He stretched his leg up until his ankle was by his ear. 

“I think it’s fine,” he said. 

Victor’s nose turned even more pink. “Yeah. Seems… um. Good.” 

Yuuri dropped his leg and put himself in position to do a pirouette, making sure his range of motion was where it needed to be.

“Now I’m curious, what’s the third present?” he asked.

“It’s not coming until tomorrow,” Victor said. “Okay, let’s get you out of that now, don’t want to get it sweaty before the big event.”

Yuuri walked over and turned around, letting Victor unzip it. Yuuri felt his cheeks heat again, wondering what it would be like if Victor peeled the costume down his back, and kissed his shoulder blades softly. If he kissed down each vertebra, one at a time. If he turned Yuuri around, pulling him close and pressing his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth... 

“All done,” Victor said, his voice low.

“I’m just going to shower,” Yuuri said over his shoulder. He couldn’t turn around, because he might lose control and push Victor against the bathroom door.

“Yuuri…”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

Victor paused, as if he wanted to say something. “Okay,” he said eventually.

Yuuri didn’t turn around or move until the door closed behind him, and then he put his hands against the counter, leaning down, his head dropping. _I can’t do this._  

It was getting too hard to pretend. Everything was coming to a head: his love for Victor, his attraction to him. It had to be obvious by now.

Yuuri stood there for a few minutes, trying to steady his breathing, before he turned on the shower. He took a long time getting out of the costume, then got in and immediately took himself in hand. He was already half-hard; really, he had been almost on the cusp of it all day, and Victor unzipping him from _that_ costume had been the final straw. He knew he shouldn’t do this, especially since Victor was right next door, but he had to. The pent-up sexual frustration from the entire day was too much. 

Yuuri slid his hand up his cock, once, twice, sighing in relief. He closed his eyes, wondering what it would feel like if it were Victor’s hand.

He teased the frenulum, pulled the foreskin upward and down again, biting his lip. He started using longer strokes, imagining that mouth he’d been fantasizing about all day wrapped around his cock. He thought about Victor, the way he’d looked at Yuuri, eyes half-lidded, as he brushed his fingers down Yuuri’s face on the couch. Victor’s fingertips on the small of his back as he unzipped him from the Eros costume. He imagined that instead of leaving, Victor had pulled the costume all the way off, lifted him onto the counter, stepping between his legs, reaching down to pump Yuuri’s shaft as he kissed his neck. 

Yuuri fought back a moan as he imagined that, as he stroked tight and fast. It wasn’t going to take long, since he was so keyed up. Soon he was arching upward, mouth opening in a silent scream as his orgasm washed over him. 

He relaxed, his limbs feeling like Jell-O. As he leaned his forehead against the cool tile and let the hot water pound his back, he felt suddenly guilty, even though he’d masturbated to thoughts of Victor many times in his life. It was different this time, because Victor was in the next room, and because he knew Victor now. 

Yuuri groaned a little bit to himself, already coming down from the orgasm high. He felt so confused, so torn, and if anything it was only getting worse.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri came out of the bathroom, feeling a bit embarrassed, though Victor of course wouldn’t know what he’d been doing in there. 

Victor was in bed, shirtless, looking a bit nervous himself. Yuuri felt a twinge of guilt. Somehow, he’d managed to ruin the easy domesticity they’d been able to cultivate for the past several days, just because he couldn’t keep himself under control. 

Yuuri wordlessly put his glasses on the side table and got into bed, turning out the light on his side. 

“Goodnight,” he said.

Victor sighed, turning off his light and lying down. 

“Goodnight, _zolotse_. Sleep well.” 

Yuuri thought he should say something else, but he thought better of it, shutting his mouth again. 

The second Yuuri closed his eyes, however, his anxiety took over, his thoughts racing. 

Had he ruined everything with Victor? Had he shown how in love he was, how much he wanted Victor physically? Was Victor going to end it all, tell him he’d gotten too attached?

And then there was the interview. If Victor found out what he’d said… it would be completely obvious that Yuuri hadn’t been acting. 

Yuuri’s thoughts turned to the competition. He was going to fail, he knew it. He was going to tumble so far down the rankings that he would never be able to make it to Worlds. He felt lost, unmoored, and like his mind couldn’t quiet no matter what he did. 

Yuuri tossed and turned, and the minutes crept by, he was no closer to sleeping. He started feeling anxious about the fact that he wasn’t sleeping, which caused his anxiety to ramp up even farther. He needed to get a good night’s sleep in order to compete well the next day. 

“Yuuri.” 

Victor’s voice cut through the dense darkness of the room. 

Yuuri froze, realizing that his restlessness must have kept Victor awake. “I’m sorry.” He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, the frustration at his inability to sleep and the fact that he was even keeping Victor up starting to manifest physically. 

“Come’ere.” Victor’s voice was low, but steady.

“Victor, I…” Yuuri clenched a fist in the bedclothes.

“Come _here_ ,” Victor said. 

Yuuri obeyed, moving closer. Victor’s hand guided Yuuri’s head to his chest, his other arm encircling Yuuri’s body. 

“Listen to my heart beating. Count the beats. You’ll fall asleep,” Victor said. 

“I don’t—” 

“It will be okay.”

Yuuri sighed, and he let himself mold into Victor’s body, even though he shouldn’t; even though this was dangerously dependent territory.

Right at that moment, he didn’t care.

He curled around Victor’s warm body, listened to his heart beat, felt his chest rising and falling, and after a few minutes, his anxiety felt like a distant memory.

Eventually, he finally drifted off to sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> [1] Виктор! Я ваша фанатка. Можно автограф? = Victor! I’m such a huge fan. Can I have your autograph?
> 
> [2] Я тоже! Селфи? = Me too! And a selfie?
> 
> [3] Конечно = Of course!
> 
> Notes:
> 
> They finally kissed!!!  
> ….what? It wasn’t what you were expecting? All in good time, my pretties :)
> 
> I debated whether to include Yuzuru in the Japanese nationals, since he’s not really mentioned in the canon (other than being on a magazine cover JJ is holding in a scene once). But I figured that since I included real-life skaters in the Russian Nationals I should mention him here. Since he and Yuuri would probably have competed against each other at a high level for many years, and considering their respective personalities, I figured they’d be friends.


	7. Stumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Japanese Nationals begin, and Yuuri performs his short program.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, longhornletters is a a beautiful, talented, brilliant, powerful muskox.

Yuuri woke up still in Victor’s arms, his head tucked into Victor’s neck. He had a moment of panic before he glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw that it was still early.  

He relaxed, moving his head slightly so that he could look up at Victor’s sleeping face. Victor's eyelashes were fluttering over his cheeks, his mouth turned downward in a frown. Yuuri reached up to trace the lines of his cheekbones with a finger, and as he did, Victor started mumbling in his sleep.

“Не оставляй меня, пожалуйста. Я люблю тебя. Я бы хотел, чтобы ты тоже любил меня,”[1] Victor muttered.

Not for the first time, Yuuri wished he understood Russian. 

“Все в порядке. Я буду любить тебя все так же.”[2] Victor sniffled a little.

“Shh, Victor,” Yuuri whispered soothingly, wrapping his body around Victor’s a little more. “It’s all right. It’s just a dream.”

Victor whimpered, his hand clenching in Yuuri’s shirt, but his face relaxed slightly. 

Satisfied, Yuuri let himself drift off again. It was still a couple hours until early skate and since he’d been unable to fall asleep the night before, he could use a little extra sleep.

A while later, Victor shifted enough to wake Yuuri up. Yuuri opened his eyes to see Victor watching him blearily. 

“Hi,” Yuuri said, his voice cracking a little.

Victor blinked. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Yeah. Thanks to you.” Yuuri smiled up at him. “Otherwise I might have tossed and turned all night.”

“We don’t want that. You need rest in order to win the national title.” 

Yuuri buried his face in Victor’s neck. “Don’t jinx it.” 

“I’m not.” Victor’s hand smoothed up Yuuri’s back, and for a moment, Yuuri let himself close his eyes and bask in the touch. 

“We should get up,” Yuuri pointed out after a couple of minutes.

Victor groaned. “Yeah, we should. What do you want for breakfast?” 

“I should probably just have a protein shake.” 

“You don’t want waffles? Or pancakes?” 

Yuuri snorted. “That’s too much sugar right before a competition.”

Victor pouted a little. “But my waffles are delicious.” 

“You can make them for me once the season ends,” Yuuri said. 

Victor’s eyes widened, and Yuuri realized what he’d been implying. They hadn’t exactly planned past Nationals. 

“I mean, if we are still… um… doing this… um… then. Which I’m not assuming we will be,” Yuuri added quickly.

Victor’s lips curled upward slowly into a smile. “Deal. I’ll make us waffles after Worlds.”

He released Yuuri, getting up quickly. 

“You get dressed, I’ll make us protein shakes.” Victor stretched his arms up over his head, going up onto his tiptoes. 

“M’kay,” Yuuri said, watching the muscles in Victor’s back move as he stretched, his sweatpants riding low on his narrow hips. 

Yuuri sighed, getting up. It was going to be a long day. 

 

 

* * *

After breakfast, Yuuri checked his gear bag three times, making sure he had everything: costume, backup costume, skates, backup skates, water bottles, snacks. His anxiety was starting to ramp up, but he didn’t want Victor to know that. Checking, double-checking and triple-checking his gear usually helped alleviate it a little. 

Victor came out of the bathroom, and Yuuri looked up.

“Victor, are you—” he began, freezing when Victor came into view.

Victor leaned against the counter, freshly shaved and wearing a sharp black designer suit, white button-down shirt and a black tie. His hair was styled, probably with some extremely expensive product. He looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine, all slender limbs and poise.

Yuuri felt a flush creeping up his neck. 

“Yes?” Victor raised an eyebrow, smirking. 

“Uh.” Yuuri gulped, unable to remember what he was going to ask. “What are you _wearing_?” 

Victor glanced down at himself. “What, don’t you like it? I could have gone with the other tie…” 

Yuuri made a strangled sound in his throat. “No, the tie is fine. I just… why are you wearing a suit?”

Victor lifted his chin, preening a little. “I’m there as your coach, I thought I should look the part.”

“You’re going to stand out more than the skaters.”

Victor shrugged. “I think you’ll probably draw everyone’s eye, not me.”

Yuuri chewed his bottom lip, eyes drifting downward and catching on Victor’s chest, trying not to imagine ripping those buttons off...

“You ready?” Victor asked, standing up straight. “We don’t want to be late for your warm-up.” 

“Right. Um. Yeah.” Yuuri turned, hiding his face, which had to be beet-red. He put on his Japanese National Team warm-up jacket and grabbed his gear bag, shouldering it. “Let’s go.”

Victor’s phone chimed. He plucked it out of his pocket, smiling when he saw the screen.“Inessa says good luck.” 

Yuuri paused as they closed the door. “She does?”

Victor nodded, and his phone chimed again. “She also says, and I quote, ‘don’t fuck up Eros, I worked too hard to get it into shape.’”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Tell her thank you, and I won’t fuck it up.”

Victor grinned even wider, typing quickly on his phone as they got on the elevator.

 

 

* * *

When they arrived at the arena, Yuuri was immediately assailed by reporters asking questions in several different languages. Victor got out behind him and put on his sunglasses.

 _I really need to get some of those_ , Yuuri thought, blinking against the onslaught. 

“Yuuri! Do you think you can beat Yuzuru today?” a woman shouted in English.

“ _Yuuri, after all the jumps you missed at the Grand Prix, do you think you’ll even make the podium_?” another reporter asked in Japanese. 

“How has married life changed you? Are you less focused now?” 

“Why did you decide to go with Victor as your coach? Was Celestino holding you back?” 

Yuuri sighed, a little peeved. “I have no statement at this time,” he said in English, loud enough that everyone near him could hear. “I have to get inside for morning practice skate.”

“He’ll have a press conference after he wins gold,” Victor said loudly, taking Yuuri's hand and wading through the cameras to the front doors.

“Victor!” Yuuri hissed. “Stop saying that I’m going to win.” 

Victor shrugged, putting on his credentials. “You are, though.” 

Yuuri pressed his lips together, trying not to snap at him again. His anxiety was starting to ramp up, and Victor’s confidence in him only seemed to make it worse somehow. 

As they walked into the athlete area, almost everyone in view turned to stare at them.

“Hello, everyone!” Victor said brightly. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes, making a beeline for the changing room. He was there to skate, not to be gawked at.

 

 

* * *

Victor stayed behind the boards as Yuuri skated out onto the ice. He saw Yuzuru over by his coach, and he gave him a small wave. They were both in the last wave of skaters, but they had an initial warm-up with the main morning practice along with all the others.

Yuuri warmed up for a bit, ran through his program once, marking the jumps, then did it again with the jumps. He felt good; a little nervous, but not too bad. He was even landing his quad Salchow.

Victor waved him over to the boards. “I think that’s good for now.” 

“I was going to run through it one more time,” Yuuri said, frowning.

“You still have the warm-up before your wave.” Victor was looking at something over Yuuri’s right shoulder. “Besides, your third gift is here.”

Yuuri paused in the middle of drinking from his bottle. “I had totally forgotten about—”

“Yuuri!” a voice cut through the general hubbub of the rink. Yuuri froze; he would know that voice anywhere.

He turned around, and immediately got an armful of his best friend.

“Phichit!” he laughed, keeping himself upright on his skates but only barely. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Phichit hugged him tightly over the boards as Victor moved a little bit away to give them space. “I came to see you, _obviously_.”

Phichit released him long enough that they could look at each other, and Yuuri grinned so widely that his cheeks hurt. “You’re really here!”

“I had to see my best friend win gold at his nationals!” Phichit smiled. 

“Everyone keeps jinxing it,” Yuuri grumbled. “But… when I was texting you yesterday…” 

“I know, I know, I felt so bad lying, but I had to. He wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“Who?”

Phichit looked over Yuuri’s shoulder, and his expression turned guarded. “Guess.”

Victor came over, beaming, holding out his hand. “Phichit Chulanont. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”

One of Phichit’s perfectly shaped eyebrows arched upward as he shook Victor’s hand.

“Nice to meet you too,” he said. 

“You… you brought him here. For me.” Yuuri stared up at Victor, feeling like his heart might burst. 

“Merry Christmas?” Victor looked at Phichit and back to Yuuri. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to actually get him here in time for Christmas, but it is a very long flight.” 

Yuuri was really glad that Phichit was there because that was basically the only thing that stopped him from kissing Victor in that moment. Instead, he hugged Victor tightly.

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

Victor’s arms came up to encircle Yuuri, hugging him back. “You’re welcome.”

Yuuri released him, wiping away the tears that were pricking at his eyes.

“Okay, okay, waterworks, chill out. Let’s get you back to a room to stretch,” Phichit said, nudging him with his shoulder.

Yuuri rolled his eyes, grinning again, his vision still a little blurry. Victor handed Yuuri his skate guards, and Yuuri put them on as he got off the ice.

“When you were changing I saw someone I used to skate against, an old friend, and I promised them I’d go say hi. You’ll be alright for a moment, right?” Victor asked. 

“I’ve got my stretching buddy, I’m all set,” Yuuri said, wrapping his arm around Phichit’s shoulders. 

Victor grinned. “Okay. There’s two waves before yours, so you still have a while. I’ll come find you.” 

Yuuri walked with Phichit away from the ice, glancing over his shoulder at Victor, who was already chatting amiably with some skaters.

They found a place in a hallway away from other people, as was their usual routine. Yuuri didn’t like being too close to other skaters when he was stretching; it made him more anxious. 

Yuuri changed out of his skates, put his mat down and started stretching his legs in a runner’s lunge. 

Phchit sprawled down next to him. 

“You big liar.” Yuuri nudged his shoulder good-naturedly.

“Yeah, well. It was worth it to see the look on your face.”

Yuuri sighed, leaning his head against Phichit’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too, bud.” Phichit took out his phone and snapped a photo of his skates, which were propped against the wall. “I’m going to put this on Insta, okay?” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “If you must.” 

Phichit tapped away a bit on his phone. “Your fans miss my constant documentation of your life. You really should start doing Instagram.” 

Yuuri shrugged. “I just never remember to post things.” 

“I’ll take some videos of you skating too.” 

“Okay.” Yuuri bent down, putting his forehead to his knee. 

“So…” Phichit began. “What’s he like?” 

Yuuri snorted. “How long do you have?”

"Just tell me what it's like to sleep in his bed, for starters."

A skater walked by them, looking at Yuuri curiously. 

“Not here,” Yuuri said out of the corner of his mouth, straightening up and switching legs.

Phichit laughed. “Okay, well. Later you can give me the full run-down.”

“Deal.”

Yuuri stood up, stretching his shoulders against the wall.

“So is this your new costume?” 

“Yeah, it was Victor’s.” Yuuri’s face heated a little bit. 

“Ohhhh my god, wait a second.” Phichit got up and pushed Yuuri’s shoulder, making him stand up straight, and unzipped the jacket. 

“This is the…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe…” 

“I know.”

“Does he—?” 

“No.”

Phichit met his gaze, his eyes wide. “Wow.”

“Exactly.” Yuuri zipped his jacket up again, looking around. Victor was nowhere nearby. “He shipped a bunch of his costumes here and let me choose, but when I saw this one I knew.” 

He went back to stretching, and Phichit leaned against the wall. “Well, that seems pretty perfect, given what you’ve said about your new short program.”

“I hope I pull it off.”

Phichit shook his head, smiling lopsidedly. “I know you have clinical anxiety, so it’s not your fault, but how little confidence you have in yourself continually astounds me.”

Yuuri made a non-committal grunt. 

“Seriously. Yuuri, you are one of the top figure skaters in the world. Just go out there and show ‘em who’s boss.”

Yuuri laughed, shaking his head. He turned to face the wall, putting his hands about a foot above his head and pushing his backside outward, stretching his lower back like a cat. 

Phichit nudged him. “Victor’s back.” 

Yuuri glanced over his shoulder to see Victor looking at him, his face flushed. Yuuri realized what a suggestive pose he was in, and he dropped his hands, standing up.

“The first wave started,” Victor said, his nose pink.

Phichit narrowed his eyes, looking at Victor suspiciously. 

“Okay. I’m just going to keep stretching for now.”

“Okay.”

Victor awkwardly went to stand on Yuuri’s side, taking out his phone.

They stood there quietly for a few minutes, not talking, while Yuuri stretched.

“You’re not used to being a coach and having nothing to do, are you?” Phichit asked over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“It’s so boring!” Victor said exasperatedly. “What are you supposed to do most of the time?”

Phichit laughed. “Just stand there and look pretty?” 

Victor put his finger on his lips. “Well, that, I can do.” 

Yuuri giggled.

Phichit tilted his head, watching Victor thoughtfully, and Yuuri looked back and forth between them.

“I’m going to keep stretching,” he announced unnecessarily, bending over to stretch his hamstrings.

 

 

* * *

After Yuuri warmed up with his wave, they went back into the corridor. Yuuri put in his headphones, running back and forth down the hallway to keep his muscles warm. Victor and Phichit stood to the side, talking to each other. Victor was gesturing animatedly, talking with a bright smile; Phichit had a slightly guarded expression, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. 

Yuuri tried to concentrate, putting everything around him—including the fact that his best friend was talking to his fake husband—out of his mind.

Yuzuru had three quads in his short program. Even if Yuuri landed everything perfectly, he’d have to get a perfect program components score in order to beat him. 

Yuuri focused on the floor, tuning out the world around him and going into a meditative state. Everything else started to melt away as he visualized the entire routine. He imagined dazzling Victor with his every movement, seducing him with every twist of his hips. 

But it wasn’t real, and it never would be. Would it? 

 _Oh._ He paused at the end of the hall, looking back. He still hadn’t been able to tap into a deeper level, his true Eros, because he couldn’t quite believe, deep down, that he was worthy of Victor.

And maybe he wasn’t. But for those three minutes on the ice, he was going to believe it. He was going to be the woman who seduces the playboy, the dime-a-dozen skater who was able to get the living legend to fall in love with him. 

He turned and ran back again. He could do it, just this once. Make himself irresistible, even to Victor. 

A lot of time must have passed, because before he knew it, Phichit was touching his shoulder. 

“Yuuri, the skater before you just went on. It’s time.”

Yuuri pulled out his headphones, nodding.

Victor walked up to him, holding out his water bottle, and Yuuri took it wordlessly. 

The three of them walked together down to the rink. The skater on the ice was young, probably not much over the age of seniority, and he had a shocking stripe of dyed red hair. He finished his routine and waved at the stands, skating over to the kiss and cry for his score. 

Yuuri turned away from the rink, unzipping his jacket and giving it to Victor. He was starting to feel nervous, his stomach roiling.

It wasn’t until the skater’s score came up—not extremely high, but not horrible either—that Yuuri’s hands started to shake a little. _Oh god, oh god, I can’t do this, I’m going to fail, I’m going to fall like I did in the Grand Prix..._  

As if he could sense his friend’s inner turmoil, Phichit put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, looking straight into his eyes. “You’re going to be great. This Eros routine is all about dancing for the one you love, right?” he said softly, so no one else could hear. 

Yuuri glanced over at Victor, who was standing a little ways away, giving them space. “Right,” Yuuri said.

“Well go out and skate it for him. Even if you can’t tell him how you feel in words, do it on the ice.”

Yuuri smiled, putting his hands over Phichit’s. “I will.” 

Phichit gave him one last squeeze. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

Feeling a little less nervous, Yuuri took off his skate guards and stepped out onto the ice, turning to Victor over the boards. 

Victor took Yuuri’s hand. “The time to seduce me by picturing pork cutlet bowls is over. At this point, you can do it by just being yourself. You’ve figured that out by now, haven’t you?” 

Victor’s index finger traced one of Yuuri’s knuckles, his eyes soft. 

Yuuri felt a pulse of desire deep in his core, overwhelming the anxiety like an ocean wave dousing a flame. He threaded their fingers together, leaning in to press his forehead to Victor’s. “Watch me, Victor,” he said. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

He released Victor, skating over to center ice.

The announcer cut through the roaring of the crowd, announcing his name. When Yuuri turned around to settle into his opening pose, he glanced over to make sure Victor was still watching him. 

The eyes of the entire stadium were on him, but the only person he cared about was Victor.

 _Are you ready for me to seduce you, Victor?_  

The Spanish guitar started, and Yuuri twirled his arms around his head down to his sides, licking his bottom lip as he went.

He stomped his foot out in front of himself, throwing a glance at Victor. 

Victor’s eyes widened, and Yuuri smirked. 

He launched into the first step sequence, twirling on one foot, twisting his arms around himself. The music flowed through him, the sound of the violin echoing through his body.

Yuuri skated the feeling of Victor’s fingertips on the skin of his lower back; Victor’s breath on his face when they were pressed chest to chest. He danced the hot pressure of Victor’s lips against his own, letting his body sing the yearning he felt, that he hadn’t been able to show or express in any way until now.

 _Do you see it, Victor? Can you see what you do to me?_  

He clapped his hands over his head, flicking them down his body, seduction radiating from his very core as he went into a camel spin.

_I am the razor edge between pain and desire. I’m not just a temptress, I’m the licking flames of pleasure that consume you from within._

He twirled out of the spin, doing more footwork.

 _I’m better than any other woman out there,_ he thought, kneeling and exposing his neck. _And it’s time to show you why._

Yuuri threw his hands down his sides, skating around into his spread eagle and launching into the triple axle, and the crowd applauded. 

As he moved across the ice, he felt bright, alive, tantalizing, desired. 

Yuuri leapt into his quad sal, and he could feel that he was a little off center from the moment he launched. When he landed, his hand came down to the ice. 

 _Shit_ , he thought, straightening and immediately going on with the program.

 _Don’t panic_. _It’s just one mistake._

There was still quad-triple at the end. If he landed it perfectly, he would still get the points he needed to keep himself high in the rankings. 

As Yuuri skated around, he caught a glimpse of Victor watching him with a look of such intensity that Yuuri felt a thrill run down his spine.

 _I can do this._  

He launched into the quad-triple combo, and it was _perfect_. As he landed lightly on his blade after the second jump, he heard the crowd roar. Yuuri turned into this final spin sequence, then threw his hands to the side and wrapped his arms around himself in the final pose.

The arena roared thunderously, and after a moment, Yuuri dropped his hands, panting as he waved up at the crowds. Tokens rained down on the ice. Yuuri picked up a plushie, and then a hot pink teddy bear with a crown and a sequin tutu. 

Victor was waiting for him at the kiss and cry, his face flushed. “You were amazing,” he said. “I knew you would be.” 

“I touched down on the sal,” Yuuri pointed out. “Here,” he said, handing him the teddy bear.

Victor laughed. “Is this going to be a thing, now? We each always try to find an even more ridiculous pink bear token?”

“Apparently.” Yuuri put on his skate guards, walking over to the bench and sitting down.

He stared at the board, clutching the plushie to his stomach. The worry was starting to pool in his stomach that his score wouldn’t be high enough.

“Don’t be so worried, it was very good.” Victor said, sitting down next to him. “You had enough rotations, and you didn’t fall. The deduction won’t be that high.”

“The spread eagle into the triple axle could have been a little better.” 

Victor laughed. “From where I was sitting it looked pretty good. Give yourself some credit.”

The score came up on the screen: 98.56. It was a personal best and put him in first place, but Yuzuru still had to skate. 

“That’s fantastic!” Victor clapped him on the back.

“Not nearly as high as your short program,” Yuuri said, looking up at Victor.

Victor turned to look at him, his eyes sparkling and a huge grin on his face.

Suddenly, Yuuri remembered what had happened at the last kiss and cry they’d been sitting in. He could kiss Victor right now, pretending it was for the publicity. Victor probably wouldn’t stop him.

As if reading his thoughts, Victor’s eyes flicked to Yuuri’s mouth.

“Yuuri!” Phichit walked up quickly and pulled him into a hug. “That was amazing. You’re like a different skater.”

Yuuri laughed, hugging his friend back. “Thanks. I _feel_ like a different skater.”

“He’s truly found his Eros,” Victor said, smiling. 

Yuuri felt his cheeks burning. _If only you knew._  

They walked away from the kiss and cry to the boards as Yuzuru skated out onto the ice.

“Yuzuru is going to have a hard time beating that score,” Phichit said. 

Yuuri shrugged. “I don’t know, have you seen him out there lately? I saw him practicing his quads.” 

Yuzuru skated out onto the ice, looking relaxed. He was wearing a white shirt that faded in an ombre to light blue at the bell sleeves and waist, studded with sequins, and black pants. He stopped at center ice, arms relaxed by his sides and his head bent. 

As the music started, a soft piano, Yuzuru stayed still for several seconds, then twirled around, dancing slowly over the ice. Yuuri was struck, not for the first time, by his gracefulness.

“Wow,” Phichit said. 

Yuuri nodded, enthralled. Yuzuru was a competitor, and Yuuri wanted to win, but watching his friend skate was truly like seeing poetry in motion.

Then Yuzuru launched into a quad sal, and he fell. 

He _fell._

“Oh my god, I hope he’s okay!” Phichit whispered.

Yuzuru got up quickly, and didn’t appear hurt as he kept going with the program, twisting on one foot like a ballet dancer, twirling his arms around his body. 

“He usually recovers well, if he lands the rest he should be fine,” Victor said.

Yuzuru skated across the rink, gaining speed, and launched into a quad-triple combo, landing it perfectly. 

As the piano started picking up, and Yuzuru flew into a camel spin, eventually grabbing his back foot at the end. The crowd clapped again as he launched into a triple axle.

“A little too much knee bend into the landing,” Victor noted.

As the piano picked up again, Yuzuru started dancing over the ice in a final step sequence, his body twisting and leaping gorgeously.

“Wow, he’s really gotten better at step sequences,” Phichit said.

Yuuri felt his face heat. It was true; Yuuri had always been able to pick up more points because he had the step sequences and spins, whereas Yuzuru had the jumps. It seemed that Yuzuru had worked on the step sequences to make up the difference. 

Yuzuru did his final combination spin, ending with one hand stretching up to the ceiling, and froze in his final pose. 

The crowd applauded, just as loud as they had for Yuuri. As Yuzuru bowed, Yuuri felt the twin emotions of anxiety for his standings and happiness for his friend warring for dominance in his chest. 

Phichit touched his arm. “It’ll be okay, Yuuri. He fell! I’m sure you still beat him.” 

“I don’t know, did you see that step sequence?”

“Either way, there’s still the free skate tomorrow,” Victor pointed out.

Yuuri shrugged. “Yuzuru will make up ground in the free skate since he has so many quads.”

Yuzuru made his way over to the kiss and cry and sat down with his coach. 

Victor moved over to Yuuri, putting his arm around him, as they all waited for the results. 

After a long few minutes, the announcer started speaking. Yuuri’s whole body tensed in anticipation as Yuzuru’s score finally came up: 102.63.

Yuuri felt his face fall. The crowd applauded thunderously, and Yuzuru beamed, waving up at them.

“Ugh, so close!” Phichit said.

Victor took Yuuri’s hand. “You’ll make it up tomorrow.”

Yuuri was aware that there were probably cameras on him, and he didn’t want to cry on national television.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning away from the rink, Victor and Phichit in his wake. 

Yuuri left the arena with a sickening feeling of disappointment and anxiety in his stomach. He was in second place, which was a very good standing going into the free skate… and yet it felt like a failure.

 

 

* * *

They slid into the black car, having stowed Phichit’s luggage in the back seat.

“Do you want to go get some food?” Victor asked him gently. 

“I… yeah. I should,” Yuuri mumbled. 

“Maybe the two of you should go alone. I’m sure you want to catch up,” Victor said, looking over Yuuri's shoulder at Phichit. “I can fend for myself.” 

Phichit looked at him with surprise. “Um. Yeah, actually. That would be great.”

“I need to shower and change first,” Yuuri said.

“That’s a good idea, I should check in to my room, and could use a shower too. It’s been a long day and a half.”

Yuuri was still looking down at his hands, trying to fend off the feeling of nausea. He didn’t feel like eating, but he knew he should.

Victor took his hand, squeezing it. Yuuri tried to breathe, to keep himself from going into a tailspin, but it wasn’t really working.

They arrived at the hotel, and Yuuri grabbed his gear bag from the trunk of the car. 

Phichit took out his luggage. “I’ll check in, and meet you back here in… an hour?”

“Sounds good,” Yuuri said. His voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

“C’mon, let’s get you a shower,” Victor said, walking toward the elevator, and Yuuri followed him. 

When they were back in the room, Yuuri dropped his gear bag on the ground, letting it thump against the marble floor. 

“Yuuri…” Victor said slowly. 

“No, don’t, just… don’t.” Yuuri ran his hand down his face. 

Victor started to approach him, a comforting hand outstretched. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri backed away. “I failed.”

Victor stopped, blinking. “You didn’t _fail_. You’re in second place. Stop worrying so much.”

Yuuri felt a spike of anger and frustration coursing through his body; frustration with his skating, with Victor being _right there_ and never being able to have him. 

The feeling of complete failure at the Grand Prix, of sitting in the bathroom stall sobbing, came flooding back to him in a rush. 

“You’re tired. Maybe you should just rest instead of going out to dinner. Do you want me to call Phichit?”

“I’m not _tired_ ,” Yuuri said, crossing his arms. He actually was very tired, but in that moment, he just felt contrary. 

Victor sighed. “Maybe you could at least take a nap before you go out?”

“Stop. Stop being so…” _Stop being so rational when I can’t be_. 

“I don’t know what to do for you right now. What should I do?” Victor looked a little helpless. “Do you want me to hold you like last time?” 

Yuuri shook his head, walking over to the kitchen to grab a water from the fridge. 

“You’re acting like you didn’t just go out there and get a personal best.”

Yuuri slammed the door of the fridge. “It wasn’t enough, so it doesn’t matter.” _I gave it everything I had. I sacrificed my heart, pouring my love for you onto the ice, and it wasn’t enough. I’m never enough. Not for you, not for them, not for anyone._ 

Victor ran his hand down his face exasperatedly. “Yuuri.”

Yuuri felt tears starting to prick his eyes. “You don’t get it. I’m always going to be second rate. _Always_. When was the last time you didn’t win? When was the last time you were even in second halfway through a competition?” Yuuri accused. 

Victor pressed his lips together. 

Yuuri laughed bitterly. “See? You’re the skating world’s golden child, you don’t know what it’s like to struggle, to want something desperately that you can’t have.” Yuuri put his hand to his sternum, his shoulders caving inward. 

Victor’s face turned cold. “That’s not fair, Yuuri.”

“Oh really? You know what’s _not fair_? Not having enough money to pay my rent and my coach at the same time is _not fair_. Having to go work catering jobs at night after being exhausted from school and practice is _not fair_. Not being able to see my family for five years because I gave up everything to go train halfway around the world is _not fair_. Wanting something so badly that I’m willing to break myself for it and never actually getting it. That’s _not fair_. You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed for this.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Victor’s eyes flashed with a deep hurt.

“And you have no idea _I_ have sacrificed, Yuuri,” Victor said quietly.

Yuuri’s heart plummeted, and he immediately regretted what he’d said. “Victor—”

Victor put a hand up, and he didn’t meet Yuuri’s eyes. 

“You need to go shower and meet Phichit. I’ll see you later.” Victor grabbed his coat and started to leave the room.

“Victor, please.” Yuuri took a step toward him.

Victor paused, halfway through the door. 

_I overreacted. I’m sorry. I’m just upset. It’s my anxiety, I didn’t mean it. I’m mad at myself, not you. Please, don’t go._

Victor looked at him for a long moment, but the words got stuck in Yuuri’s throat. Victor turned and left, and as Yuuri watched the door click behind him, he felt ten times worse than when he'd seen Yuzuru’s score above his own.

 

 

* * *

After he showered, Yuuri put on some jeans and a sweater. He eyed his Xanax pill bottle, thinking about taking one, but it was too risky the night before a competition. He sighed, took his phone, and left the room to catch the elevator down to meet Phichit. When he walked into the lobby, Yuuri glanced around, hoping he might see Victor, but he was nowhere in sight. 

Phichit was by the front, and he waved Yuuri over. He was wearing his fingerless gloves, a backwards cap, and a warm coat. 

“Whoa, what’s with the new duds?” Phichit asked, looking him up and down. 

“Victor’s sponsors sent me clothes,” Yuuri said, shrugging.

“Wow, that’s pretty nice. Are you feeling any better?”  

“Mmph,” Yuuri grunted.

“Is that a no?”

Yuuri sighed heavily.

“Okay, there’s something you’re not telling me, but we are going to put a pin in that for the moment because I’m starving.” 

They walked toward a row of restaurants near the hotel.

“How about here?” Phichit asked, stopping in front of one. 

“Fine.” Yuuri didn’t really care where they went, he just wanted to eat something.

They sat down at a table away from the entrance, which Yuuri was glad for. He didn’t really feel like being in the view of any prying eyes for a little bit.

The waitress brought them water and took their drink orders, and they were left alone again. 

“Okay. So.” Phichit folded his hands formally on the table.

Yuuri mimicked his pose. “So?”

“You kissed Victor at Russian Nationals.”

Yuuri squirmed, a little uncomfortable. “Right.”

“And?”

“Annnd…” Yuuri pulled out the ‘n’ with his tongue.

Phichit rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I want details no one else knows!”

“What exactly do you want to know? It was a kiss, Phichit, not the nuclear codes.”

“Was it like the world stopped all around you? Like choirs of angels were singing? Did you feel forever changed?” Phichit giggled. 

Yuuri made a face, looking down at his hands. He knew Phichit was joking, but it wasn’t actually that far from the truth. 

Phichit stopped laughing, and his eyes widened as he put his hands over his mouth. “Oh my god, oh my god it _was_ , wasn’t it?”

“Phichit.”

“No, oh my god, this is so… oh my god." 

“You just keep saying ‘oh my god,’ you do realize that right?” 

“I just… it’s like… just... does he _know_?”

“How I feel about him?” Yuuri shook his head. “Definitely not.” 

“Even after the interview?” 

“As far as I’m aware, he hasn’t heard about it yet.” 

“Hmm.” 

“If you’re so skeptical of him, why did you come? How did he contact you anyway?” 

“He followed me on Insta, and I almost told him to go stick his phone somewhere unpleasant.” Phichit scrunched up his nose, and Yuuri snorted. 

“But then he DM’ed me, and asked if I’d like to come see you skate, and I just…” Phichit sighed, unwrapping his straw and sticking it in his water glass. “I was worried about you, and I kind of wanted to see what his whole deal is. Also, free ticket to Japan, like, hello. Yes, please.” 

“What do you mean, see what ‘his whole deal is?’” 

Phichit waved his hand noncommittally. “I’ve seen his public image, how he appears in the media... and I hear what he’s like from you, but I haven’t been able to see who he really is. Whether he’s really this untouchable playboy who doesn’t give a shit about anybody, wins gold after gold, and has tons of cash he can spend to go all over the world fucking other glitterati until he passes out.” 

Yuuri flinched inwardly, thinking about what he’d said to Victor earlier, implying some of those same things in negative. “I don’t think he’s really like that. I can’t believe it.” 

“Why? What makes you think he’s not?”

“I…” Yuuri sighed, trying to figure out how to put it into words. “I don’t know. It’s little things, but also big things.”

“You might have to be more specific.”

“He… um.” Yuuri felt himself blush. “So, I was telling him that I loved Christmas in the U.S., and how we used to sit under the tree and everything… so he got me a Christmas tree. In the hotel.” 

Phichit’s dark eyes widened. “He got you a Christmas tree.”

“Yeah. It was… really sweet.“

“Hmmm,” Phichit hummed, chewing his straw. “Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he was just being nice?”

Phichit shrugged. “I guess I thought maybe he had some ulterior motive.”

“What ulterior motive could he possibly have for that?”

“Hmmm,” Phichit hummed again. 

“And then there’s little things, like bringing me tea in the morning, just how I like it. Or helping me through panic attacks. He looked up how to do it on his own.” Yuuri was starting to feel worse and worse about what he’d said in the hotel room. He stared at his phone, but there were no calls or texts from Victor.

Phichit was watching him pensively. “Okay, that’s definitely not nothing.” 

Yuuri sniffled. “He also brought you here just because I said I missed you.”

“Maybe he’s trying to figure out if he can have sex with you without me turning all Mama Bear about it.”

“Oh my god.” Yuuri shook his head. 

Phichit gave him a pointed look. “And let me make this clear; if you do have sex with him, and he does break your heart, I _will_ turn Mama Bear on him about it.”

The waitress brought their drinks, raising her eyebrows at them. Yuuri blushed, hoping she didn’t understand much English, and he ordered food for them quickly. Once she’d left, Phichit took a sip of his Coke.

“Not to say that you can’t sleep with him if you want… autonomy, it’s your body, just be careful and use protection, _et cetera_ ,” Phichit said. 

“I thought you said I definitely shouldn’t sleep with him and that it was a terrible idea.” 

“Well. Yes, it is. But I can’t actually stop you, and he _is_ right there, and he’s hot as fuck,” Phichit said bluntly. “Is that even on the table? Has he made a move?”

Yuuri thought of Victor’s fingers on his back when he zipped up his costume, and he shivered a little. “Um.”

Phichit placed his hands flat on the table. “Wait. He has?” 

“I mean, kind of? He never pushes, but sometimes I feel like I’m going out of my mind because he’s so…” Yuuri swallowed, and Phichit raised his eyebrows. “Touchy.” 

Phichit made a strangled noise. “Touchy?”

“Last night when he gave me my costume, he helped me zip it up, and…” Yuuri faltered. “His fingers... then when I turned around… it was almost like he was about to kiss me.”

Phichit’s eyes were wide. “Ohhhhhhhh man. That’s like. Wow. So he _has_ made a move.”

“But not really? Because he’s had plenty of chances when he could try something, but he doesn’t.” Yuuri sighed, stabbing some ice in his cup with his straw. “Why would he have sex with me, anyway? You’ve seen the guys he’s been photographed with. He could practically sleep with anyone in the entire world.”

Phichit rested his chin on his fist, tilting his head a little, looking at Yuuri. “I know you never believe me when I say this, but you’re actually a hot piece.”

“Am not.”

“Just saying."

Yuuri took a long drink of his water. “It might not matter either way, because he might leave me after what I just said to him.” 

“Uh oh. So that’s why you had a sad panda face when you met me in the lobby. What happened?” 

Yuuri shrugged, burrowing into his scarf a little more. “Nothing.” 

“It’s obviously not nothing.” 

“I… we… kind of had a fight.” 

“Can you even have a fight in a fake relationship?” 

Yuuri slunk down a little in his seat. “I said some things I didn’t mean.” 

“Oh, Yuuri,” Phichit sighed. “Does Victor not know how you can get during competitions?” 

“How would he?” 

“Fair point. What exactly did you say?” 

“I was completely unfair to him. I told him he had no idea what sacrifices I’d made, and said that everything came easily to him.” 

Phichit shrugged. “Well, it certainly seems that way sometimes. But I’m sure he works hard to be where he is.” 

Yuuri sighed, feeling even more miserable. “I know.” 

“Just tell him you didn’t mean it, and you get kind of crazy during competitions. If you want, I can tell him all about the Great Toothpaste Incident of 2014, right before Skate America,” Phichit said, raising an eyebrow. 

Yuuri laughed. Phichit always had a way of making him feel better. “This was a little worse than that.” 

“Worse!? Wow, you must have really been upset.” 

“A bit.”

Yuuri thought about Victor’s expression when Yuuri had snapped at him, and he felt an actual physical pain in his chest. 

Phichit reached out and took his hand. “Yuuri, I have to tell you, sometimes… when you’re really angry with yourself, you can get a little… it’s like you can’t see things the way they really are anymore. He’s just not used to it.”

Yuuri looked down at their hands. “He still didn’t deserve what I said to him.”

“What did he do?”

“He left.” The pain in his chest increased.

Phichit squeezed his hand. “Just apologize. If he doesn’t forgive you, then that tells you something.”

Yuuri sighed, tracing his finger through the condensation on the table. _I just wanted to be worthy of him. If I make it to Worlds, and skate against him again, maybe, just maybe…_  

“I just keep falling more in love with him,” he said out loud. “And it’s like he’s everywhere. He’s in my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment.” 

“I know,” Phichit said. “I wish I could figure him out.”

“You chatted with him for a while when I was warming up.”

“I know, but I can't read him. He could just be kind, like you said... or he could be baiting you, which would be completely cavalier, even cruel.”

“There’s a third option,” Yuuri said softly.

Phichit watched him for a long moment. “I mean, yes, _technically_ ,” he said.

Yuuri put down his glass with a thunk. “You’re supposed to tell me not to hope for that, aren’t you?” 

Phichit sighed. “I mean, look, Yuuri, I just want what’s best for you. I told you to come home to Detroit after Nationals, to leave him behind, but you won’t. You haven’t changed your mind, right?” 

Yuuri shook his head. The very thought of leaving Victor behind for good made it feel like a hot poker was being shoved down his throat. 

“I can’t imagine what it would be like to have your idol of the past decade, who also happens to be the one you fell in love with, and is one of the hottest guys in the world, literally in front of you, and still having the willpower to stop yourself from just jumping him when he comes out of the shower.” 

“It’s definitely not easy.” 

“Well then, I guess, I should probably tell you to keep your heart close to your chest.” 

 _He already has my heart. I couldn’t get it back if I wanted to_ , Yuuri thought.

  

 

* * *

Yuuri and Phichit parted ways in the hotel lobby and Yuuri took the elevator up to their hotel room.

When he opened the door, most of the lights were still off. Yuuri took off his coat and hung it up, tendrils of anxiety starting to wreak havoc in his brain. What if Victor hadn’t come back? What if he’d left for good?

“Victor?” he called out, his voice trembling.

“In here.” 

Yuuri sagged a little in relief, walking into the living room. 

Victor was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his form silhouetted in front of the city skyline. He’d shucked his jacket, and was only in his white button down and black slacks, hands in his pockets.

In the darkness of the room, he was highlighted by the light from the city, his silver hair reflecting a little in the moonlight. The light pollution from the city made only a few stars visible, dotted here and there in the night sky behind him. 

Yuuri stopped for a moment, his heart caught in his throat. Victor was striking against the dark backdrop of the sky, lit from below, but for some reason… Victor’s lone figure in front of such beauty made Yuuri feel deeply lonely.

Yuuri walked over to him, trepidation starting to spike in his gut.

Victor turned to look at Yuuri. He started to open his mouth to say something, but Yuuri spoke first.

“Please, don't. I'm so sorry,” he gushed. “Sometimes my anxiety makes me say things… think things… and I overreact. I shouldn’t have said what I did. Please forgive me.”

Victor’s face was still in shadow, and it was hard to see his expression. “Yuuri.” 

“Please,” Yuuri said, moving a little closer. “I know I can’t it all back, but… I wish I could.” He felt hot tears pricking at his eyes, his throat felt constricted. 

“I know, Yuuri." 

Yuuri blinked. “You… what?”

“I should apologize, too,” Victor said. “I shouldn’t have told you not to worry. I knew better than that.” 

“But all those things I said—I… and then you left—”

Victor pulled him closer, holding him by the elbows. Yuuri could smell sake; he must have gone to a bar for a drink.

“I went for a long walk, and I realized… I didn’t know all those things you have sacrificed, what you’ve done to get to where you are.”

“You were right too, though, I had no idea what _you’ve_ sacrificed to get here.” 

Victor smiled, his eyes dipped deep in sadness. Yuuri wanted to kiss away that pain, whether it was pain he’d caused or if it was from something else. “It seems we still don’t know each other that well.”

Yuuri gulped, still feeling unsettled. “Do you... do you forgive me?” he asked after a long pause.

Victor pulled him closer, until their chests were pressed together, and he encircled Yuuri with his arms. “Of course I do, _zolotse_.”

Yuuri felt a rush of relief. Victor wasn’t leaving him; he forgave him.

He turned his face into Victor’s neck, and inhaled, grounding himself, willing himself to stop shaking.

“It’s okay. We’re okay,” Victor whispered. 

Yuuri didn’t say anything, his hands clenching in the back of Victor’s shirt.

“I believe in you, Yuuri. I know you can win tomorrow,” Victor said softly. “I’m looking forward to kissing that gold medal.”

 _I know you’ll never love me the way I love you_ , Yuuri thought. _I know I’ll never be good enough for you. I’ll never have a million gold medals, or be as beautiful as the winter sunlight glittering on snow, like you are. But for as long as I can have you in my life, I'll do whatever I can to earn your trust._

They stood there for a long time, until Yuuri could feel his heart starting to slow, steady beats finding the same rhythm as Victor’s.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> [1] Не оставляй меня, пожалуйста. Я люблю тебя. Я бы хотел, чтобы ты тоже любил меня = Please don't leave me. I love you. I wish you loved me too.
> 
> [2] Все в порядке. Я буду любить тебя все так же = It's okay. I'll love you anyway.
> 
>  Notes:
> 
> Yuzuru’s SP choreography and costume are from his actual one in that calendar year, which you can see [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCpG1Fvr03Y). His score and the fact that he fell in this competition are true to life.
> 
> I haven't mentioned it until now, but I try to portray Yuuri's anxiety to be as true to life as possible, so a lot of it is similar to my own experiences with a clinical anxiety disorder. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your comments as usual. I'm victuuriplease on tumblr if you ever want to drop by and say hi :)


	8. Zolotse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri performs his free skate at Nationals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a little early, but it was done, so I thought, why wait? My Big Exam is in a week, and then I’m moving to a new apartment, so I will have very little time to write. I have no idea when the next update will be. It might be in two weeks, but a shorter one than usual. Thank you all for continuing to read, and of course, for all your wonderful comments.
> 
> Longhornletters is amazing and wonderful and all those great things.
> 
> [Follow me on tumblr](http://victuuriplease.tumblr.com/) for updates and some extras :)

The morning of the free skate dawned with dark clouds overhead. 

Yuuri sat at the suite’s kitchen table with his head propped in his hands, watching the rain pelt the windows. It seemed like a bad omen, but of course, every single competitor had awoken under the same sky. 

Victor walked over, setting a plate of eggs and mug of tea in front of him.

Yuuri took the mug and wrapped his hands around it, warming them. “Thank you,” he said, taking a sip and staring out at the rainy world again.

Victor sat down and followed Yuuri’s gaze out the window, sipping his coffee. The aftermath of their fight—if one could call it that—had felt like the calm after a storm. Yuuri still felt a little raw around the edges, like he’d come far too close to losing something real, something important. It had kept him up for a little while the night before, until Victor had turned over and pulled him close, reassuring Yuuri with his warmth. Once again, Yuuri’s nerves had calmed down and he’d been able to fall asleep. 

He tried not to think too hard about the fact that he had somehow become mentally dependent on Victor’s presence.

After a few minutes, Victor nudged him with his elbow. “You need to eat, Со́лнышко,”[1] he said gently.

“That’s a new one,” Yuuri mused. 

“What?”

Yuuri met his eyes. “You call me things in Russian all the time, and I have no idea what they mean. That one’s new.”

Victor’s cheeks flushed a little. “Erm…”

“I tried googling a couple of them but I’m apparently not spelling them right.”

“Hmm.” Victor sipped his drink again, averting his eyes.

Yuuri sighed. “Fine, be that way.” He looked at his food, trying to find the will to eat some. Normally, before a competition, he tended to binge eat—but at the moment, he just felt like he was going to throw up. 

“Just try and eat a little, it might calm your stomach,” Victor said, as if reading his thoughts. 

Yuuri picked up his fork and moved his food around his plate a little. 

Victor put down his mug and took Yuuri’s free hand. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he said softly. “I know you’re going to win.” 

Yuuri looked up at him, the anxiety churning in his stomach. “I know you believe that. I wish I could believe it too.” 

Victor sighed, looking down at their joined hands, but saying nothing. Yuuri made himself take a few bites of the eggs, even though it was hard to swallow. 

 

 

* * *

The press were already camped out in the lobby of the hotel. They immediately started shouting and taking photos as Yuuri and Victor walked out of the elevator.

“Don’t they have anything better to do?” Yuuri grumbled. 

“You’re big news,” Victor said, smiling. He took Yuuri’s hand and squeezed it as they walked, more cameras flashing.  

Phichit was hovering to the side by the doors, waiting for them.

“This is nuts,” he said, turning around and snapping a photo of the reporters as they walked toward the car.

“Phichit,” Yuuri said, rolling his eyes. He gave his gear bag to the driver and slid into the car after Victor.

“What? Maybe they should get a taste of their own medicine for once,” Phichit said, tapping away on his phone as he got into the car. 

There were even more paparazzi outside the arena when they arrived, and once again they had to run the gauntlet to get inside. As usual, Victor flashed his media smile, but Yuuri just hunched his shoulders and made a beeline for the doors. Despite the fact that he was coming to expect the reporters documenting his every move, it always felt weird. 

“I need another coffee, I’ll meet you at the rink for morning practice,” Victor said once they were inside. 

“Okay. I’m going to go change,” Yuuri said, walking toward the athletes area. 

“I’ll come with you,” Phichit said, following Yuuri. 

“Did you actually tweet that photo of the paparazzi?” Yuuri asked as he shouldered his way into the locker room. 

“Yeah.” Phichit grinned. “The major rags are already asking me to take it down, and I replied, ‘only when you leave my friend alone, so... never.’” 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri said, shaking his head as he put down his gear bag. “You really have some balls. They’ll come after you next.” 

“Seriously, they should know what it’s like to be followed around and photographed constantly. Maybe they’ll start to think twice about their profession.”

Yuuri pulled his costume out of the bag: a black loose top that flowed in the wind, and black pants, both of which faded to burnt orange and red ombre on the bottoms, that could only be seen in certain light. He’d had it designed to go with the theme of his program: a phoenix rising from the ashes. 

“When do you leave?” Yuuri asked, taking off his sweatpants. 

Phichit’s bright smile dimmed somewhat. “I have to fly out tonight around dinner time,” he said.

Yuuri paused halfway through pulling on his skating pants. “What? I thought we’d have one more night. It feels like you just got here!”

Phichit sighed. “I know, but the travel days make it hard, and Ciao Ciao only allowed me to come if I would be back within four days.”

Yuuri felt his face fall, turning away slightly. “Oh.” 

Phichit groaned. “Don’t do the face, not the face.”  

Yuuri sighed as he pulled his pants on the rest of the way, then sat down. “It’s just... I don’t know when I’m going to see you again.” 

Suddenly, the idea of going back to St. Petersburg—and being so far from everyone he loved, other than Victor—felt daunting. He hadn’t really let himself think past Nationals before. 

Phichit sat down next to him, putting his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “I know. But you’re going to see your family tomorrow, right? That’ll be good.” 

Yuuri looked down at his hands. The waves of nausea were starting to come back, and he could tell he was spiralling downward. 

“Yuuri. Hey. Look at me.” 

With effort, Yuuri met his eyes, and Phichit smiled, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re going to be great. I mean it.”

“So everyone keeps saying.” Yuuri swallowed, putting his hand over Phichit’s. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Even if you go out there and flub every jump, you’d never disappoint me.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me the ‘what matters is that you’re having fun’ speech, not now.” 

“I mean it. You work the hardest of anyone in our rink. You come first and you leave last. You help other skaters with their jumps, and you’re a really good friend. But more than all that, you’re truly talented, and you worked so fucking hard to get here. So no, I will not sit here and listen to you call yourself a disappointment, even if this free skate doesn’t go perfectly.” 

Yuuri’s jaw still felt tight. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Phichit said. “But the things that you want the most in life are the most terrifying. That means they are worth it.”

Yuuri let out a whoosh of air, nodding.

“Also, you somehow bagged the most famous and hottest husband, like, ever, and it’s not like I hate you for that or anything,” Phichit added, grinning.

Yuuri laughed, shaking his head. As always, Phichit was able to alleviate his anxiety a little, but it was far from gone.

 

 

* * *

After his initial morning practice, Yuuri went to a back room to stretch, as was his normal routine. Being seeded second meant that he had to wait for a long time to perform, and he had to try and block everything else out to keep his nerves under control. Victor and Phichit stayed within sight but gave him space, which he was grateful for.

Finally, it was time for his wave’s short warm-up. As Yuuri skated out onto the ice, his legs started to tremble with nerves. He warmed up for a couple of minutes, then skated over to where Victor and Phichit were standing by the boards.

Victor handed him his water bottle, and Yuuri took a quick sip.

“Feeling okay?” Victor asked. 

“Yeah, good. My thighs feel a little sore, but I’m okay.” 

“Alright. Practice the step sequence at the end of your program, the hard one. No jumps.” Victor looked at him sternly.

Yuuri was about to protest, especially since Yuzuru’s quads had been in top form, but he could tell from Victor’s expression that it would be pointless. 

“Fine,” he sighed. 

Yuuri skated over to the edge, and launched into the step sequence from the beginning, dancing over the ice. 

Once he finished, Yuuri skated back over to Victor. “Good.” Victor nodded. “Now the camel combo spin.” 

“Okay.” Yuuri reached down to brush the ice shavings off his skates.

“Head’s up,” he heard Phichit say.

Yuuri straightened quickly, thinking that someone was about to run into him, but instead he saw the young skater from the day before—the one with the stripe of red hair—stop right in front of him. He was wearing another garish costume under his National Team jacket. 

“Hi, Yuuri!” The skater grinned widely, his face a little flushed.

“Um… hi,” Yuuri said, glancing around. “Sorry, do I… know you?”

The skater’s smile faltered a little. “I’m Minami Kenjirou. I’m from your region… from Fukuoka? I got third in Junior Nationals last year.” 

“Sorry, I don’t…” 

Minami looked a little hurt, but he recovered quickly. “I’m such a huge fan of yours. That step sequence you did last year was so beautiful, I almost cried.”

Yuuri frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I um… it wasn’t that great.” 

Minami smiled even more broadly. “But it was! And the one you were just doing, I mean, wow.” 

Yuuri felt uncomfortable, his cheeks heating. “I don’t really have time to chat right now, I’m sorry. I need to concentrate.” 

He skated off to practice the camel spin, trying to concentrate on the movements and nothing else.

Far too soon, the announcer came over the intercom, telling the skaters to clear the ice. Yuuri skated back over to Victor. 

“Where’s Phichit?” He grabbed his water bottle again, taking a long drink. 

“Went to get food. He also said something about ‘getting some aesthetic pics.’” Victor was resting on his elbows, watching Yuuri with an exasperated expression. 

“What?” Yuuri asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“If you don’t have the strength to motivate someone who looks up to you, how will can you find the strength to motivate yourself? I’m disappointed in you.” Victor put Yuuri’s skate guards down on the boards and walked away. 

Yuuri watched him walk away. _Can we talk about what you just did to my motivation for a second?_

Yuuri looked over at the young skater, Minami, who waved sheepishly when Yuuri met his gaze.

Yuuri sighed, putting on his skate guards and stepping off the ice. Before he could try and catch up with Victor, Phichit come back into the arena, walking over with some kind of food in a takeout box. 

Yuuri crossed his arms, frowning. 

Phichit looked chagrined. “What? I was hungry.” 

“No, it’s not that… I just… Victor…” Yuuri waved his hand.

“Now what did he do?” Phichit took out a french fry and popped it in his mouth.

“He was peeved at me for blowing off that other skater. I have to concentrate right now, doesn’t he understand that?”

Phichit chewed a little, tipping his head to the side. “Maybe he thinks it’ll help you get out of your own head. And you know him, he’s always really nice to his fans.” 

Yuuri sighed; he didn't know what to say to that.

“I’m going to go take some pics of the other skaters in this wave. Go do your thing. I’m sure Victor is around somewhere.”

Yuuri nodded. There were still a few skaters before him, so Yuuri went back to the athlete area. Victor wasn’t there, nor was he in the locker room.

Starting to feel irritated, Yuuri walked down a hallway leading off the main area, checking the smaller conference rooms.

Yuuri peeked in the window of each one, but Victor was not in any of them—not until the very last one. Victor was sitting at a table with his head bent, his elbows resting on the table and his hands on the back of his neck. 

 _What the hell?_   Yuuri opened the door and walked inside. “Why did you leave me out there?” he asked without preamble, shutting the door.

“I needed a moment.”

Yuuri paused. “I need you right now,” he said, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice. 

Victor lifted his head. He looked tired. “I know. I’m not going anywhere. I was just about to go back in and find you.” 

Neither of them said anything for a long moment, and the silence was palpable. “I don’t know what you wanted me to do,” Yuuri said eventually.

“I told you.” 

Yuuri crossed his arms. “How the hell am I supposed to motivate another skater when I can barely do it myself?” 

Victor sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Exactly my point.” 

“I don’t get it.”

“I believe in you, but you don’t believe in yourself.”

“You’re my coach, you’re supposed to believe in me more than I do.” 

“That’s not enough. Not for you to win.” Victor stood up, his eyes a storm of emotion. “At first, I thought you were just being dismissive of Minami, and it seemed so unlike you. Then I realized the real reason you blew him off: it’s because you still don’t think you’re _worth_ looking up to. No matter what I say, or Phichit says—”

Yuuri walked around the table to stand in front of Victor. “You know this, my anxiety makes me—” 

Victor put a hand up, stopping him. “Yes, I know. And I am not dismissing it, or saying it’s not something you struggle with. I thought I could pull you through it, that I could believe enough for both of us. But you have believe it too, or you’ll never stand on top of that podium, or make it to Worlds. You have to believe in your own ability to win. If you have resigned yourself to always being ‘second rate,’ as you said it, then you might as well not even try. If you have already accepted failure, you might as well not even step out on the ice.”

Yuuri’s fists clenched at his sides. “I… I can’t believe in myself the way you do. I’ve tried.”

Victor massaged his forehead with one hand. “You may think you can’t. But as I told you weeks ago, there’s a fire inside of you, a determination to win. Isn’t that what your free skate is all about?”

Yuuri looked down at his feet, shoulders hunched. Victor was right; Celestino had chosen the program to inspire him, but it had always struck a slightly wrong chord before. He’d been so focused on Eros lately that he hadn’t even been thinking about it.

“I have seen glimpses of the greatness inside of you. A greatness even _I_ aspire to. You have put in all the work, but you still lack the confidence in your abilities that you need to be a champion.” Victor put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, squeezing them a little. “How much longer are you going to stay in warmup mode?”

Yuuri raised his head to meet Victor’s gaze, and they stared at each other for a long moment. There was a muffled cheer from the arena, cutting through the heavy silence and reminding Yuuri that he was due to skate soon. 

“I’m not great, Victor. I’m just… ordinary,” Yuuri said quietly. He’d never actually said it out loud, not to Victor.

Victor dropped his hands, looking almost hurt. “Oh, Yuuri. How can you _possibly_ think you’re ordinary?”

“I…” Yuuri was distracted, because Victor’s eyes were glistening. 

“Greatness is not just about natural ability, or even how much you practice on the ice,” Victor said, his voice low. “Those things allow you to _show_ your greatness. But not everyone has the innate ability of a true athlete to shine when things are at their hardest, when their body has been through hell and hope seems lost. I know you have that inside you. You just have to see it too.”

Yuuri bit his lip, saying nothing, his stomach in knots. 

“I know this isn’t easy for you. Confidence was never the hard part for me, other things were. But every athlete faces challenges. This is yours. Whether you rise to that challenge is up to you.”

Another cheer from the arena. Victor watched him for a moment, then sighed again, walking toward the door. “I’ll see you out there. Stretch a little before you come out. You’ll need it for the charlotte spin.”

Once the door closed, Yuuri sat down at the table, putting his head in his hands. It wasn’t a fight; it didn’t feel like it had yesterday when Victor left. Victor was just stating a truth as he saw it, and leaving Yuuri to decide whether to accept it. 

Yuuri felt the tears starting to prick his eyes. He could hear cheers coming from the arena again, louder this time. The second skater in Yuuri’s wave must have finished his program.

Yuuri wiped his eyes, staring down at his hands. 

He’d trained so hard to make it to the Grand Prix, and then he’d completely failed. The fact that Vicchan had died was part of it, but it wasn’t the only reason he’d flubbed jump after jump.

The truth was, deep down, Yuuri hadn’t believed that he deserved to be there. He’d thought it was a fluke, even though he’d worked harder than he ever had in his life. He’d even withdrawn from a course in order to practice more so that he could qualify. 

When he was warming up the day before, Yuuri had realized he’d still been scared to try and truly seduce Victor on the ice. For some reason, he had also been scared to believe in himself. 

Yuuri sniffled a little. The problem was that belief, and hope, were dangerous. If he let himself hope, he would be far more crushed than if he’d never believed he could do it.

But Victor was right; how could he possibly win if he didn’t believe? He had to take the leap, to let himself be in free fall, which was terrifying. If he was going to believe, it meant risking crushing failure afterward. 

 _The things you want the most are the most terrifying_ , Phichit had said.

 _I_ _am_ _terrified,_ Yuuri thought. _But I need to believe if I want to win._

Yuuri stood up, closing his eyes and cracking his neck a little from side to side, then leaning down to stretch his hamstrings. He felt better; like a weight had been lifted off of him. 

 

 

* * *

When he had stretched enough, Yuuri walked back through the athlete area and down to the rink. He came out just as Minami was stepping out onto the ice. 

Yuuri cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Minami! Good luck!” he yelled. 

Minami flushed, nodding, and settled into his opening pose with a smile on his face. 

“So.” Victor appeared at his side, smiling a little. 

Yuuri looked up at him. “So.” 

Victor took his hand. “I’m proud of you.”

Yuuri just squeezed Victor’s hand. They didn’t have to say anything; they both knew. 

_I’m going to do it. For you, but also for me. I’m going to give it everything I have._

Phichit came up and stood on Yuuri’s other side. Standing between the two of them, Yuuri’s anxiety felt dialed down for the first time in almost two days. It was still there, at a simmer, because it always would be; but for now, he had it under control. 

He was ready.

Minami’s performance went by quickly, and then he skated over to the kiss and cry, picking up tokens as he went. Yuuri took off his National Team jacket and handed it to Victor, shaking out his arms a little.

Phichit turned to Yuuri and gave him a hug. “No matter what happens, I’m so proud of you,” he said. “Now get out there and skate your ass off!” 

Yuuri laughed, squeezing him a little before releasing him. 

He turned to Victor, who grasped Yuuri’s hands. “I know this is the part when I’m supposed to say something inspiring, but I think I’m out of words.”

“I know,” Yuuri said, smiling. “You don’t have to say anything.” 

“Good luck, _zolotse_ ,” Victor said, kissing each of his hands.  

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “Okay, how about this: if I win, you have to tell me what one of the Russian nicknames means. That one.”

Victor’s lips curled into a smile. “Deal.”

Yuuri kissed the ring on Victor’s hand, then his own, before skating out to center ice.

Yuuri settled into his starting pose, curled in on himself, as [the music began](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFIIMEe2Ht0) over the loudspeakers. The opening was a few beats, which Yuuri had come to associate with the sound of Victor’s heartbeat.

 _I won’t just survive_  
_Oh you will see me thrive_

As the lyrics began, Yuuri opened his body slowly, like a flower blooming, and twirled on his back foot. The first part of the program was all choreography, as he’d saved most of his jumps for the second half. 

 _Can’t write my story_  
_I’m beyond the archetype_

Yuuri slowly skated around the rink in an arc, twisting back and forth on one foot, loosening his center, letting his body follow the turns. _My story hasn’t been written yet,_ he thought. _I’ll surprise all of you. Especially you, Victor._

 _I won’t just conform_  
_No matter how you shake my core_  
_Cause my roots, they run deep, oh_

He arched backward in an Ina Bauer, transforming the line of his body become a work of art. _I won’t give up, I won’t resign myself to failure. I may have been shaken before, I may have fallen, but I got back up._

 _Oh ye of so little faith_  
_Don’t doubt it, don’t doubt it_  

Yuuri picked up speed as the music started to swell in intensity, pulling his leg up into a charlotte spiral, something that hardly any men even attempted because of how much flexibility it required. 

 _Victory is in my veins_  
_I know it, I know it_  
_And I will not negotiate_  

 _I can do this, Victor,_ Yuuri thought, coming out of the spiral. _I’m going to show you that coaching me hasn’t been a waste of time. I deserve to be by your side._  

 _I’ll fight it, I’ll fight it_  
_I will transform_  

Yuuri built up speed and launched into his first combination—a quad toe loop, triple toe loop combo—and he landed it perfectly on the drop in the beat. As the crowd exploded in applause, Yuuri felt a rush of adrenalin flow through him.

 _Are you watching, Victor?_ Yuuri launched into a step sequence, whirling over the ice. 

 _When, when the fire’s at my feet again_  
_And the vultures all start circling_  
_They’re whispering_  
_you’re out of time_  
_But still I rise_

He caught Victor’s eye as he skated past. _Do you see? I will be everything you dreamed and more._

 _This is no mistake, no accident_  
_When you think the final nail is in_  
_Think again_  
_You’ll be surprised, I will still rise_

At the end of the sequence, Yuuri launched into a quad salchow, the crowd roaring as his skate connected with the ice.

 _I must stay conscious_  
_Through the madness and chaos_

Yuuri folded into himself, clutching his arms around his body and spinning on his axis as if he were in agony. _This is the part that shows when I started to lose myself, when I was letting my anxiety pull me apart like unraveling threads._  

 _So I call on my angels_  
_They say, oh ye of so little faith_  
_Don’t doubt it, don’t doubt it_  
_Victory is in your veins_  

 _But then you came to me, bringing me hope._ Yuuri spun on one foot as he moved across the ice, kicking one leg up to hip level and twirling his arms around his head. _You believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself. And now I do. I have found my strength in you._

 _You know it, you know it_  
_And you will not negotiate_  
_Just fight it, just fight it_  
_And be transformed_  

Yuuri launched into a triple axel, and again, the landing was perfect. He was landing all the jumps he’d flubbed at the Grand Prix Final. 

He flew into a camel combo spin. _Everyone else thought I was finished, even me. But you believed that I could do it, and here I am._

 _Cause when, when the fire’s at my feet again_  
_And the vultures all start circling_  
_They’re whispering_  
_You’re out of time, but still I rise_

 _This is no mistake, no accident_  
_When you think the final nail is in_  
_Think again_

Yuuri twirled upward into a standing position, then pulled out of the spin. He was starting to feel a little tired, but he knew he had enough in him for the rest of the program. _I want to do something to show you that I believe, to make you feel it._

_You’ll be surprised, I will still rise_

He leapt into his triple lutz-triple toe loop, landing lightly on his blade. The crowd applauded again in the background as he started his last step sequence, a grueling one with a lot of intricate steps. He felt the music flow through him, his body telling the story of fighting back when all hope was lost.  _I brought myself back from the brink of falling into oblivion. You brought me back, Victor._  

 _Don’t doubt it, don’t doubt it_  
_You know it, you know it_

 _What if I made my final quad into a flip, instead of a loop?_  Yuuri thought. _What would you think of that?_

  
_I’ll still rise_  
_Just fight it it, just fight it_

Yuuri built up speed, flying over the ice. _I can do this, because of you. I will become the skater I always dreamed I could be. The one who could fight you for the title at Worlds. The one who deserves to stand on a podium with you, who deserves to stand at your side off the ice._

 _You’ll be surprised_  
_I will still rise_

He took a deep breath, and then launched into the quad flip, and it was almost like there was a collective gasp in the entire stadium. He spun in the air, the moment suspended in time, and then time sped up again as he touched down, but he had to put his hand down on the ice to stay upright. 

_Dammit. Almost had it. I think there were enough rotations though._

Yuuri skated back over to center ice and twirled into his final pose, one arm reaching up to the ceiling, and the crowd _exploded_.

Yuuri dropped his arms, taking a long bow of respect, then stood up straight and waved, his heart pounding in his ears. He looked around the rink, trying to find Victor among the people standing by the boards. 

He finally caught sight of Victor, who had his head in his hands. 

 _Is he mad? Did he see it? I need to know…_  

Victor dropped his hands and ran around the rink toward the kiss and cry. Yuuri forgot the crowds, the tokens, and skated directly over to him. 

“Did you see that? I did great, right?” he asked, once he got close enough. 

Victor met his gaze, a smile slowly spreading across his face, and for a moment Yuuri was confused, but then— 

Victor was launching himself at him, and pressing his lips to Yuuri’s, and Yuuri couldn’t breathe because he was on the ice at a major competition and Victor was _kissing him_ — 

But it only lasted half a second and then it was over, and Victor was cradling his head to keep it from hitting the ice. Once they stopped moving, Victor raised his head. 

“This was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you surprised me.” The way Victor was looking at him made Yuuri’s heart squeeze.

“Well, it worked,” Yuuri said dazedly. 

In an abstract way, he was aware that thousands of cameras were flashing all around them, and that they were still currently lying on the ice.

“I guess we should get up,” Yuuri said. “Yuzuru might want to do his program.”

Victor chuckled. He got up to his knees, holding out his hand to help Yuuri up.

As they walked off the ice, they were assailed by so many photo flashes that Yuuri thought he was going to go blind. 

Yuuri sat down on the bench at the kiss and cry, touching his lips with his fingers. He wanted to find out what his score was, but at the moment, all he could think about was Victor’s lips on his.

“You okay?” Victor asked, nudging him with his shoulder. 

“I… uh…” Yuuri looked up at him, still in a daze. “Um?”

“Yes?” Victor looked amused.

“So… you thought it was... good?” Yuuri asked.

Victor laughed. “Was that somehow unclear?” 

“Just….” Yuuri waved his hand noncommittally. “Checking, I guess.” 

Victor laughed, leaning in close until his mouth was by Yuuri’s ear. “It was truly the kind of greatness I have been waiting to see. I can’t wait to see what you do next.” 

Victor kissed Yuuri’s cheek, and Yuuri felt a blush spreading down his neck. The cameras were clicking all around them, which reminded him that it was all just for publicity. _Even the kiss on the ice was just for the cameras… right?_  

Before he could think about it more, though, the announcer proclaimed Yuuri’s name, and they both looked upward to see his score: 195.25. His combined score was 294.81, sixty points higher than his total score at the Grand Prix, only a couple of weeks ago. He was solidly in first place, but of course Yuzuru still had to skate. 

Victor smiled widely at Yuuri. “Amazing,” he said, his eyes warm. 

Phichit was waiting for them as they left the kiss and cry. He looked at Victor with an impassive expression for a moment before he threw himself into Yuuri’s arms. 

“That was fantastic,” he exclaimed. “I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri closed his eyes, hugging Phichit back.

“C’mon, let’s go watch Yuzuru,” Phichit said.

They walked over to the boards as Yuzuru (who was wearing a white and purple Japanese-inspired costume) skated out onto the ice. “ _Good luck!_ ” Yuuri shouted in Japanese. 

Yuzuru smiled and waved, doing a couple of circuits before he stopped at center ice, settling into his opening pose. 

The Japanese flute began, and Yuzuru started skating, all sharp edges, clean and cold as the ice he skated on. It was completely at odds with his short program, which was soft and fluid. An offbeat drum in the background made the whole performance even more ethereal.

“So are we going to talk about what just happened?” Phichit whispered. 

“What, my score?”

Phichit rolled his eyes. “C’mon, you can’t possibly be that dense.”

Yuuri glanced over at Victor, who was watching Yuzuru intently and didn’t seem to be paying attention to them.

“I have no idea why he did it. Probably just for the publicity.” 

“I don’t know, Yuuri. I don’t think you can fake that kind of raw emotion.”

“What are you saying?”

Yuzuru launched into his quad salchow, but he touched his hand down. _Ugh, so close_ , Yuuri thought. 

Phichit shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m saying. Maybe… it wasn’t just for publicity. Just _maybe_. I don’t know.”

Yuuri ripped his eyes from Yuzuru to look at Phichit. “Are you…”

Phichit raised his hands. “I don’t know, okay? I just… saw his face when you did the quad flip. He was basically crying. Either he’s the world’s greatest actor or he was truly moved.”

Yuuri bit his bottom lip, looking out to the ice again. Yuzuru was fighting a battle like a samurai, his whole body singing with power. He picked up speed and launched into another salchow—and fell.

Yuuri and Phichit both gasped. “That’s so unlike him, to mess up two quads in a row.” 

Yuzuru got back up again immediately and continued his program.

“Is he all right?” Victor walked over to them, ending any hope that Yuuri might have had to interrogate Phichit a bit longer.

“He seems okay, but ugh, that sucks,” Phichit groaned. “He seemed fine during warmups today, he landed everything.” 

By the time Yuzuru popped another quad, Yuuri was starting to think… he might just win. It was heartbreaking, though, because he knew just how good Yuzuru was. 

Yuzuru leapt into a camel combo spin, ending with his arms outstretched on a final drum beat, and the crowd applauded.

Victor moved close enough that he could whisper in Yuuri’s ear. “I think you’ve got it,” he said, taking Yuuri’s hand.

They watched Yuzuru bow and make his way over to the kiss and cry to get his score. It felt like an interminably long time before the announcer came over the intercom and Yuzuru’s scores came up on the screen: his free skate was 183.73, combined score 286.86. 

Yuuri’s name was still right next to the number one at the top of the list. 

Yuuri gaped up at the screen. “I… I won.” 

“Yeah you fucking did!” Phichit hugged him, and they were both laughing, and then Victor was hugging him, and there were a dozen cameras on his face and he was crying but he didn’t care, because he had won Japanese Nationals.

He had _won._

 

 

* * *

It took a little while for them to set up the medal ceremony, and Yuuri felt dazed, accepting congratulations from ISU officials and other skaters. When it was finally time for the podium, Yuuri climbed up onto the highest step as the crowd applauded thunderously. He smiled out at the flashing lights, the crowd cheering, Japanese flags waving in the audience. It felt like the volume on everything—light, sound, color—had been dialed up until he could barely take it all in anymore. 

The ISU officials marched out with the medals, putting the bronze and silver on Minami and Yuzuru respectively. Then Yuuri leaned down so have the gold medal hung around his neck, and straightened to a roar from the crowd.

He smiled, waving up at them, tears pricking his eyes.

Yuzuru beamed up at him, holding out his hand. “Congratulations, Yuuri. I’m so happy to see you up there. I can’t wait to fight for the gold with you at Worlds!”

Yuuri felt a knot in his throat. Instead of shaking Yuzuru’s hand, he pulled him into a hug. More lights flashed, and Yuuri knew he was probably getting blotchy from the crying, but he didn’t care. 

They released each other, and the ISU officials handed each of them a bouquet of flowers. The crowd started chanting something, and for a moment Yuuri couldn’t hear what it was... but then he realized: it was his name.

“Yuu-ri! Yuu-ri Yuu-ri!” 

Feeling overwhelmed, Yuuri put his hand to his heart, then waved up at them again to more cheers. Unable to help himself, he glanced down at Victor. 

Victor was smiling broadly and clapping, his eyes glistening a little for the second time that day.

Yuuri grinned, waving at Victor sheepishly. Victor laughed, waving back, and Yuuri felt his face flush.

_Oh my god, what the hell am I doing? I’m the Japanese national champion, and I’m waving at a boy like a kid with a crush._

After the anthem, Yuuri walked down from the podium and Victor swept him up into a hug again. Yuuri closed his eyes, bathing in the contact.

“I knew you could do it, _zolotse_ ,” Victor whispered into his ear.

“Okay, you have to tell me what that means. Deal’s a deal,” Yuuri said, breaking the hug.

Victor grinned. He picked up Yuuri’s medal, dramatically bringing it to his lips to kiss it.

“ _Zolotse_ means ‘my gold,’” he said, looking at Yuuri over the shining metal.

 _Oh my_ _god_. Yuuri felt his eyes widen and his face flush as thousands more cameras went off around them.

“What were you expecting?” Victor asked, his smile widening as he took Yuuri’s hand, leading him off the ice.

“I have no idea, but it definitely wasn’t _that_ ,” Yuuri admitted.

Victor looked like he was about to say something else, but then Phichit practically bowled him over with a hug, and Yuuri had a hard time standing up on his skates. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you!” Phichit squealed. “Let me see it!” 

Yuuri laughed, holding up the gold medal, and Phichit cradled it in his hands with awe. “Mannnn,” he said. “That is _beautiful_.” 

“It’s not going to explode or anything, you know,” Yuuri joked. 

Phichit laughed, wiping his tears away a little. “Oh shut up,” he said, punching Yuuri’s shoulder lightly. “God, I can’t believe I have to leave right now! I wish we could go out and celebrate.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that he celebrates handsomely,” Victor said, putting his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. 

An ISU official came up to them. “Mr. Katsuki, are you ready for your press conference?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. “Just a second.” 

Phichit hugged him again. “You’re an inspiration, Yuuri,” he said into Yuuri’s ear. “And don’t you ever forget it.” 

Yuuri squeezed him tight, and when they released each other, Yuuri’s throat felt tight. 

“I’ll call you when I get back, okay?” Phichit said. 

“Okay. Say hi to Ciao Ciao for me.”

“I will.” Phichit hugged him one more time, and then he turned to go. 

Yuuri didn’t have much time to think about the fact that he was gone, as he and Victor were immediately whisked down the hallway. When they walked into the press room, more cameras started flashing. Victor stopped inside the door, but Yuuri didn’t let go of his hand. 

“Please, come sit up here with me,” Yuuri said, tilting his head toward the dais.

“Are you sure? This is your day,” Victor said.

“I’m sure.” Yuuri tugged his hand. Victor relented, walking up with him, and the reporters murmured curiously.

Yuuri sat down and took a long drink of water. He wasn’t really used to press conferences; he’d done a few, but he didn’t have the easy confidence Victor always seemed to. Having Victor by his side, though, would help.

Once he felt ready, Yuuri took a deep breath and looked out at the reporters. He noticed Morooka, and pointed to him first.

Morooka stood up. “Yuuri, first of all, I just want to say that I’m so glad you didn’t retire after the Grand Prix.”

Yuuri laughed, feeling a little embarrassed. “Uh, thanks.” 

“And second, are you planning on going to the Four Continents now that you qualified for Worlds?” Morooka asked. 

“Erm,”Yuuri glanced at Victor, who shrugged, nodding slightly. “Probably. I was really focused on the Grand Prix and then qualifying for Worlds. The Four Continents is still a ways off. Victor and I will have to discuss it.”

A bunch of reporters started shouting. Yuuri pointed at one. 

“Yuuri, why did you decide to switch from the loop to the flip at the end? Is it because it is the signature move of Victor?” a woman with a thick Italian accent asked. 

Yuuri blushed, and he had to fight the urge to sink down in his seat. The real reason was too personal—and too difficult to explain. “Um. One of the things Victor always tries to do is surprise the audience, I just wanted to surprise him for once.” 

“So what was with that kiss at the end, Victor?” another reporter shouted. 

Victor shook his head. “This is Yuuri’s press conference. I won’t be answering questions.”

The reporter looked peeved. “Okay, then, Yuuri: what was with that kiss at the end?”

“Er…” Yuuri blushed even more. “Let’s just focus on the skating, maybe?”

The reporters started shouting again, and he pointed at another one.

“Your new short program has caused quite a stir. Why did you decide to switch it in the middle of the season?” the man asked. 

Yuuri shrugged. “After my poor performance at the Grand Prix Final, Victor and I thought it might be better for me to do a program that focused more on my strengths—spins and step sequences.” 

Yuuri pointed at another woman. 

“Eros is the greek term for sexual love,” she said. “What are you thinking about when you skate it?” 

Yuuri looked up at the ceiling, wishing the floor would swallow him whole. He was definitely starting to regret having Victor with him at the press conference. 

“Pork cutlet bowls. My mom makes really good ones,” Yuuri said, hoping to deflect. 

Everyone laughed.

“That’s very funny. But really, what do you think about?” the woman pressed. 

Yuuri sighed, looking down at his hands. “I should think it’s obvious,” he said eventually, unable to think of what else to say. 

The reporters chattered, and some oohed. Yuuri glanced at Victor, whose nose was turning pink. 

Another reporter shouted over the hubbub. 

“Victor, have you heard what Yuuri said about you in an interview during your free skate in Yekaterinburg?” 

Victor’s gaze focused on Yuuri, his eyes sharp, and Yuuri felt his whole face heat. _No no no, please, no…_  

“Um, no,” Victor said. “I have been very focused on Yuuri the last couple of days, and I haven’t been looking at the press coverage very much. But as I said before, I’m not answering—”

“He said,” the reporter interrupted, “and I quote, “‘I didn’t know I had been missing out on so many different things—so much of myself—before I met him. I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t met Victor, but I know for sure I would never have known love like this. I wouldn’t have truly understood everything that life has to give.’ What do you think about that?”

Yuuri sucked in a breath, and suddenly the entire room was silent, no cameras clicking or reporters shouting, everyone poised for his answer. Victor turned to look at Yuuri again, his eyes a storm of emotions, and for a long moment no one moved or spoke. Victor pressed his lips together before looking back at the reporter, smiling his fake media smile. “I don’t think I could have said it better myself. Now if you don’t mind, we have some celebrating to do.” 

Victor stood up, taking Yuuri’s hand and leading him out of the room. 

Yuuri followed him down the hallway toward the athlete area, his heart racing. _He knows_ , Yuuri thought. _He must know. God, I’m so stupid, I can’t believe I said all those things to the reporter, I’m such an idiot..._  

“Do you want to get katsudon to celebrate?” Victor asked airily, as if Yuuri’s secret infatuation with him hadn’t just been revealed.

Yuuri blinked at him. “What?” 

“Katsudon. Since you won.” Victor smiled at him.

_Aren’t you going to ask me?_

“Um. No,” Yuuri said. “I was going to wait until we get back to Hasetsu and have my mom’s.” 

Yuuri stared at him as they continued walking down the hall. There was no one else around them. _He’s going to ask now. ‘Yuuri, are you actually in love with me? We are going to have to talk about this. It’s gone too far.’_  

“That makes sense,” Victor said cheerily. “But we should get some dinner first.” 

 _Oh my god,_ Yuuri thought. _He’s pretending it didn’t happen._

“First? Before… what?” 

“You’ll see,” Victor said, his eyes glittering. 

They walked into the athlete area, stopping by Yuuri’s gear bag, and Yuuri stared at it for a moment. Everything felt surreal. 

“Aren’t you going to change out of your skates?” 

“Right.” Yuuri blinked, sitting down to change into his tennis shoes. 

He kept glancing over at Victor every couple of seconds, but Victor was just humming under his breath, texting away furiously on his phone. 

Once he was done, Yuuri slung the bag over his shoulder. Victor grinned, pocketing his phone. “Ready?”

Yuuri nodded, and Victor took his hand again, leading him out of the arena.

 

 

* * *

During the car ride back, Yuuri kept glancing at Victor out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to be in a very good mood, still texting.

“Chris says congratulations, and he’ll see you at Worlds,” Victor said, sounding amused. He didn’t look up from his screen.

“Uh. Tell him thanks,” Yuuri said, looking out the window.

By the time they arrived at the hotel, it was clear that Victor wasn’t going to ask him about the interview, which meant he was just going to pretend it hadn’t happened. Yuuri couldn’t decide which was worse; Victor confronting him, or just ignoring it.  

When they got back to the room, Victor took the medal off Yuuri’s neck and put it on the kitchen table, arranging the ribbon carefully. “Don’t want to lose that,” he said, winking.

Yuuri flushed, but he felt a surge of pride at the same time. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said, ducking into the bathroom.

When he got out, Victor was putting some clothes out for him on the bed. 

“Okay, really, where are we going?” Yuuri asked, eyeing the outfit. It was his nicest (and tightest) pair of dark jeans, and a black Dolce button down shirt, embellished with raised black swirls embroidered into the shoulders.

“You’ll see!” Victor said brightly, bounding into the bathroom for his own shower. 

“I’m fake-married to a madman,” Yuuri muttered, sitting on the bed.

He checked his phone. There was a text from Phichit with a link and a lot of exclamation points. Yuuri clicked the link, which appeared to be an article in a tabloid. There was a picture of him and Victor in the middle of the kiss on the ice above the article.

 

 

**LIVING LEGEND TACKLES JAPAN’S NEW ACE TO ICE AT NATIONALS**  

**SAPPORO** —Katsuki Yuuri has taken gold at the Japanese Nationals. But that’s not what the entire world is talking about.

After his program ended, Katsuki skated over to his husband at the kiss-and-cry, and Victor Nikiforov tackled Katsuki to the ground, planting a kiss on his lips. 

The couple shared a brief public embrace after Nikiforov’s free skate at the Russian Nationals in Yekaterinburg, and have been spotted around St. Petersburg in various date-like situations, but this was the first time they were physically effusive to such a degree. Between the kisses and Katsuki’s gushing about Nikiforov in Yekaterinburg during an interview, it’s safe to say that there is now a new Ice Power Couple, and we kind of all hate them right now. 

Katsuki toppled three-time Japanese champion Yuzuru Hanyu from his longtime place on the podium, and will be fighting with his husband, who recently won gold at Russian Nationals once again, for gold at the World Championships...

  

Yuuri sighed, dropping down onto the bed. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually done it. He’d won the gold at Nationals, and he was going to the World Championships to try and win gold… against Victor. 

He thought about what Phichit said about the kiss… that Victor had seemed truly moved. But maybe it was just because Yuuri had skated well? 

Yuuri touched his lips. _But then… why a kiss? And why was Victor ignoring the interview?_

Victor’s face appeared over his head, cutting through his thoughts. “You’re not too tired to go out, are you?” he asked, pouting a little. 

“No, no, I’m up,” Yuuri said, sitting up. 

Victor walked over to his own clothes. “It’s going to be really fun, I promise.” He dropped his towel, and Yuuri blinked for a moment, staring at him.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it all before—far from it—but of late, Victor had been changing in the bathroom or when Yuuri wasn’t there. Yuuri hadn’t even really realized it until that moment, but it was the first time in at least a week that he had seen Victor’s bare, sculpted ass in all its glory. 

As if sensing his gaze, Victor looked over his shoulder, his hair covering one eye. He grinned. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?” 

Yuuri flushed and averted his eyes, realizing he’d been caught. “Sorry, yeah,” he said, taking his clothes and walking back into the bathroom. He closed the door and leaned against it, sighing and closing his eyes. Victor was just becoming more and more confusing, and he didn’t know how much longer he could handle it. 

 

 

* * *

Victor took him to an out-of-the-way restaurant where the paparazzi thankfully left them alone. Once they were fed (and had a couple glasses of wine), Victor whisked him into a car again. 

They drove to a district with a lot of bars and people milling about, some waiting in line in the street. 

“What… are we doing here?” Yuuri asked, watching two men walk by the car, swaying and drunkenly singing a song.

Victor just smiled again and waggled his eyebrows. The car stopped in front of some kind of club, but only men were in line, and they looked... 

“Oh my god, is this what I think it is?” Yuuri asked as they got out of the car. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Victor led him to the front of the line. The bouncer took one look at them and nodded, letting them in. 

The pumping bass pounded through Yuuri’s body from the moment they walked in. Victor took his hand, leading him through the crowd. 

As they walked, several men turned and stared at them. Victor paid them no mind, leading Yuuri to the bar and pushing to the front. A couple of people gave Victor dirty looks, but their expressions changed to surprise, and they moved backward, giving them space.

“I might need to order,” Yuuri said, having to yell to be heard over the loud music.

“I want to practice my Japanese, I’ve been learning!” Victor said, smiling. 

“What? You have?” Yuuri asked, surprised. _Why?_  

A tall bartender with dyed blond hair came over to them very quickly, considering the mass of people trying to order drinks. Victor leaned over the counter and said something that made the bartender laugh, touching Victor’s shoulder flirtatiously. 

Yuuri tried to tamp down on the jealousy that immediately flared up. But in the next moment, Victor flashed his wedding ring, and gestured back at Yuuri, saying something else Yuuri couldn’t hear.

The bartender nodded, smiling again, albeit in a more reserved way. He immediately started mixing two (strong-looking) drinks. 

When he put the drinks on the counter, as well as two shots in neon glasses. Victor tried to hand him a credit card, the bartender waved them off, saying something jovially before going to the next customer. 

Victor handed Yuuri a drink and a shot, and they moved away from the bar. 

“Sometimes it pays to be a gay icon,” Yuuri said.

“I think he said it was a wedding gift,” Victor said, shrugging. “I didn’t even order the shots.”

“Well, that’s nice, but I don’t want a shot.” 

“But Yuuuuuuri,” Victor whined. “We’re celebrating your victory!”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but took it nonetheless. “Fine.”

“Cheers!” Victor held up his shot.

Yuuri clinked with him, and they both downed the shots. Yuuri winced; he wasn’t used to drinking hard alcohol.

A dark-haired, well-muscled man walked by in gold hot pants and cargo boots, holding a tray of jello shots.

“Free shot?” he asked in English, holding the tray out. 

“Why are they free?” Victor didn’t wait for an answer, taking two. 

“Jello shots are always free here! Have a good time,” the man said, winking at them as he walked away.

“Here.” Victor handed Yuuri one of the jello shots. “To your victory, _zolotse_!” he said, downing the shot.

Yuuri eyed his shot dubiously. _What the hell_ , he thought, downing it.  

“Have you been here before?” he asked, taking another sip of his drink. 

Victor shook his head. “Why?” 

“They’re all very…” Yuuri swallowed, and Victor raised his eyebrows. “...friendly,” he finished lamely. 

Victor grinned. “Have you never been to a gay club before?”

“No. Well, once. But I was so drunk before we went that I don’t remember anything about it. Apparently I got up on stage and started stripping—” 

Victor choked on his drink, spilling a little but managing not to get any on his shirt. 

“Are you okay?” Yuuri patted his back a little bit, and Victor coughed, nodding. 

They stood there a little longer (another round of jello shots’ worth), getting lingering looks from a lot of the men passing by. 

A couple of men came up to them at one point and started to flirt, but Victor just laughed, shaking his head, and put his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.

“Finish up, I want to dance.” Victor lifted his chin at Yuuri’s drink.

Yuuri downed the rest of his drink. Victor put their empty glasses on a table, taking Yuuri’s hand and leading him toward the dance floor. It felt like everyone in the club was watching them. He was never this self-conscious on the ice, when he was the only one out there, all eyes on him. 

Victor turned around and pulled Yuuri to him, immediately finding the beat of the music. He could still feel several pairs of eyes on them, but Yuuri tried to just stop thinking and feel for a while. He was healthily buzzed, which made it much easier to dance. Victor was, of course, fantastic at dancing—he was good at so many things, it wasn’t surprising.

The music had a steady beat, and Victor pulled him close enough that their bodies were pressed against each other. Yuuri couldn’t help sliding his hands up Victor’s back, feeling the movement of his muscles under his clothes.

After a few songs, the DJ put on a remix of an old R & B song, and Victor cheered along with several other patrons. 

Yuuri raised his eyebrows at him.

“What?” Victor yelled. “This is a goooood song.”

“Fuck, you’re old,” Yuuri teased, grinning.

Victor laughed, his hips moving against Yuuri’s in a way that was just obscene. Victor’s hand slid up into the back of Yuuri’s hair, Yuuri let his breath out in a whoosh, closing his eyes. The bass of the song was deep, and Yuuri felt his entire body melting into Victor’s. 

Yuuri didn’t think about Victor’s motivations. He didn’t think about the fact that Victor almost certainly knew he was in love with him.

He just let himself feel Victor’s breath on his cheek, his nose skimming against Yuuri’s neck, his hands warm on Yuuri’s waist.

“Yuuri,” Victor said eventually. Yuuri blinked his eyes open, and Victor leaned in until their foreheads were touching, and his face the only thing Yuuri could see. His eyes were a mesmerizing, deep blue in the semi-darkness. 

Yuuri felt dizzy, lightheaded, and it wasn’t just the alcohol. 

 _Is he…?_  

Victor leaned inward, just enough that their lips were almost touching, and Yuuri felt a swoop of anticipation in his stomach. 

“Can I?” Victor asked. “Please. Please let me.”

Agony ripped through his chest; desire warring against the saner part of him that knew he should refuse. 

To save the little dignity that remained to him, to keep his heart a little more intact, he should say no… but the man he loved was holding him in his arms, begging to kiss him.

Something inside him snapped. Instead of answering, Yuuri just slid his hands up into Victor’s hair, and pulled his head downward. 

They were still in the middle of an extremely loud dance club, but as cliché as it was, everything went quiet when his lips met Victor’s. His lips were soft, just like Yuuri remembered, but unlike their first two kisses, it wasn’t quick. This time, Yuuri leaned into it, his entire body singing with the contact.

Victor’s lips parted, and Yuuri licked into his mouth, exactly the way he’d wanted to so many times, drowning in the sensation of Victor’s hot tongue against his own. He kissed with hunger, with desperation, because he had spent so long wanting Victor and never _having_. 

Victor’s lean and muscular body pressed into him, and he could feel Victor’s heart beating hard, his breaths coming quick and stuttered.

He’d kissed a few people in his life, but none of those kisses could possibly compare. There was a sharp edge to it—the arousal cutting deep into him, carving him out from the inside. When Victor sucked on his lower lip, twisting his hips just enough that Yuuri could feel his cock against his hip, and the blood drained from Yuuri’s head. 

Something deep and primal snarled inside of him. _Mine_ , he thought. _Mine, mine, mine_. He twisted a hand into Victor’s hair, pulling it a fraction to tilt his head, and Victor’s resulting moan made Yuuri’s blood heat. Victor arched into him, his hands slipping downward to cup Yuuri’s ass, and their hips ground against each other. Yuuri groaned, biting Victor’s lower lip a little, tipping the kiss further into heated territory. Yuuri wanted _more_ —more skin, more Victor. It was probably the closest Yuuri had ever gotten to sex…. and they still had clothes on. He wanted to get Victor on his back, to map out his skin with his lips, to kiss and bite and stroke… 

A flashing light blinded him, and he broke away from Victor, shielding his eyes. A man nearby was holding his phone out in front of him, obviously having just taken a photo of them kissing.

Yuuri looked around, and there were several other dancers discreetly putting away their phones as if they had been doing the same thing.

 _Oh._  

Yuuri looked at Victor, whose hair was messy and his lips pink, his cheeks and nose a little flushed. He looked at the photo-taker sheepishly, before his gaze focused on Yuuri again. 

“I’m guessing we are already on Twitter,” Victor said.

Yuuri’s heart sank. 

He was such an idiot. Victor had only been kissing him to get a shot of them making out for the publicity. Of course.

Despite that, and despite the fact that hundreds of eyes were currently on them, Yuuri wanted nothing more than to pull Victor to him and kiss him again. 

“Can we go?” Yuuri blurted out. 

Victor opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, then closed it again, nodding. He took Yuuri’s hand and led him toward the front of the club, dozens of men turning to stare in their wake.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation: 
> 
> [1] Со́лнышко = my sun 
> 
> Notes:
> 
> How hot was that kiss, you may ask? Let’s put it this way: every gay man in the bar is now simultaneously texting their friends: “I just saw two men so beautiful that I’m crying in the club right now.”
> 
> They were dancing to “Pony” by Ginuwine, because this is insane wish fulfillment and I DO WHAT I WANT.
> 
> [Yuzuru’s FS program from that year can be seen here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPT36BPGIhk) I couldn’t find a video of the FS from Nationals, but it would have been the same program as performed at worlds.
> 
> So about Yuuri’s free skate: I know, “Rise” by Katy Perry didn’t actually come out until later that year, but it fit Yuuri so perfectly that I thought I’d just bend the rules of time a little here. Also, whoa nelly was it hard to write the choreography of that FS. Forgive me if it wasn’t all technically accurate, I did my absolute best.
> 
> Official art of Yuuri in one of his program outfits this season has been published, but it wasn’t really clear which program was which. I chose this costume because it goes well with the theme of the program I wrote, even if it’s not canon.
> 
> Finally, Sapporo does have some gay clubs, but the gay scene might not be quite as big as I’ve described here--they might have had to go to Tokyo to go to this kind of club. But just suspend your disbelief, because Yuuri and Victor had to go to a gay club to celebrate. It had to happen.


	9. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor travel to Hasetsu to visit Yuuri's family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (walks in a month late with starbucks) sup
> 
> Sorry for the long delay between chapters, folks. As I mentioned last time, I took my huge important exam in late July, and then I had to pack up and move into a new apartment within four days, and then I had ANOTHER exam (a less difficult one, but I still had to study for it), and then I was on a two week road trip with limited internet. Everything has been a bit crazy lately—good, but crazy. Anyway. I hope this was worth the wait.
> 
> Also, for those of you who don’t follow me on tumblr, [here’s a link](http://victuuriplease.tumblr.com/post/163531658101/a-little-victor-pov-for-you-all-since-im-not) to a little ESBS extra I posted a little while ago—it’s the text conversation between Victor and Chris right after the press conference at Yuuri’s nationals (yes, right after Victor found out about THAT interview). So those of you who have been begging for a little Victor POV got your wish!
> 
> Translations: As I did before, I put the Japanese dialogue in italics.  
> Russian Translations are at the END of the chapter this time, to avoid spoilers :)

Victor led Yuuri out of the club and into the cold night. Once they made it to the curb, Yuuri looked up at the dark sky, the bitter air biting into his lungs as he took a deep breath and exhaled. His head was spinning a little, but he felt a bit more clear-headed than he had only a few minutes earlier.

 _What was I thinking, kissing Victor in the middle of a club? What good did I think was going to come of it?_  

“Do you want to go somewhere else, or back to the hotel?” Victor asked.

Yuuri tilted his head down again to look at him. Victor was watching him with concern, a little crinkle forming above his nose.

“Hotel,” Yuuri said simply. “I’m tired.”

As he said the words, Yuuri realized that it was an understatement. The whole day—their fight the night before, the competition, winning gold, kissing Victor—was all catching up with him, and he felt like his legs could barely hold him up anymore. 

Victor pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded once before taking out his phone and tapping away quickly on it. 

“Driver will be around in a minute,” Victor said once he was done texting, pocketing his phone.

Yuuri nodded, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering a little. He definitely should have brought a coat. Over Victor’s shoulder, Yuuri saw several men smoking outside the club, who seemed to be looking in their direction.

Victor’s forehead creased and his lips turned downward. “I’m sorry, I should have texted him before we came out, it’s really cold out here.” He moved closer, reaching toward Yuuri.

Before Victor could touch him, Yuuri flinched backward a little.

Victor froze, hand outstretched. The hurt that crossed his face felt like a physical wound in Yuuri’s stomach.

“I just… I don’t.” Yuuri clenched his teeth. _I don’t want more pictures of you touching me that I’ll have to see on the internet tomorrow._

He was saved from having to say anything more by their car driving up at that moment. Yuuri opened the door and slid over to the far side, leaning against the window and folding his arms around himself. Victor got in behind him without a word. As the car started forward, Yuuri leaned his forehead against the cool glass, feeling Victor’s eyes on him like a physical presence. 

 _Say something,_ Yuuri begged him silently. _Tell me you wanted to kiss me. Tell me it wasn’t for the publicity. Tell me you want me. Please._  

But Victor remained silent.

Yuuri pulled his arms more snugly around himself and closed his eyes. He wished he could turn back time, rewind to just before he’d kissed Victor. He would just laugh it off instead of kissing him like there was no tomorrow, grinding up against him for the world to see.

After a while, Yuuri started drifting; the adrenalin rush was crashing. 

He must have nodded off, because the next thing he knew, he was being woken up by a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Yuuri.” It was Victor’s voice, rougher than usual. Yuuri blinked his eyes open to see Victor’s blue ones inches from his face.

“We’re here,” Victor said. “I had the driver bring us around to the back so we wouldn’t get swarmed again.”

Yuuri blinked at him slowly, struck for the thousandth time by just how beautiful Victor was.His silver hair had fallen a little into his eyes, and Yuuri’s fingers itched to brush the fringe away; pull him close again and kiss him, consequences be damned. 

Victor’s gaze was so soft that Yuuri could almost believe that the affection he saw there was genuine. 

 _Stop looking at me like that,_ he wanted to say. _It hurts too much._

“Okay.” Yuuri turned away, sitting up enough that he could open the door.

As he walked toward the hotel, Yuuri hunched his shoulders, wrapping his arms around himself again, trying to make himself smaller. Victor caught up with him at the door, and Yuuri very pointedly didn’t look at him as Victor opened the door for him. 

Once they were inside, Victor stopped by a doorway to the right. “Want to go up the stairs? It’s closer, and then we won’t have to worry about more paparazzi in the lobby.” 

Yuuri nodded in Victor’s general direction, still avoiding his eyes. They walked up the stairs silently, and when they finally reached their floor, Victor opened the suite door quickly. 

“Yuuri…” Victor began as soon as the door closed behind them.

“I’m going to shower,” Yuuri blurted out, making a beeline for the bathroom.

“Okay,” he heard Victor say softly as he closed the door. 

Yuuri turned the water on hot and stepped under the spray, not even bothering to get the soap for a long time, just standing under the water and letting it run down his body in rivulets. He tried not to think about Victor, but it was a lost cause. He’d never be able to forget the taste of Victor’s lips, the feeling of Victor’s hands on him, the sound of Victor’s moan when Yuuri pulled his hair… 

Yuuri choked off a little sob, leaning a hand against the shower tile and hanging his head. He wouldn’t cry over this, not now. This was an inevitable outcome of the trajectory they’d been on.

But somehow, even Phichit’s warnings hadn’t prepared him for how much this hurt—knowing that Victor had been using him for cash, that the passion in the kiss had all been fake.

Yuuri stayed in the shower until his skin felt raw.

Eventually, though, he had to get out. He slowly wrapped a towel around his waist and took a long breath before he emerged. Victor was in bed, texting on his phone. When he saw Yuuri walk out, he put his phone on the bedside table and sat up a little.

He could have been imagining it, but Victor looked a bit… wrecked. As wrecked as Yuuri felt.

But that wasn’t possible. Victor had gotten what he wanted; they were probably going to get the Nike deal, and he was going to get enough money to keep his extravagant lifestyle going. All at the expense of Yuuri’s heart. 

Yuuri stared at him for a long moment: his muscular legs tensing beneath the sheets, those lips Yuuri had just been tasting, glinting in the low light…

Yuuri inhaled sharply, the pain increasing in his chest. He realized that he simply couldn’t sleep in the same bed with Victor. He couldn’t stand being right next to him… touching him, feeling his warmth. 

He turned away, going over to his suitcase and hunting for his sleeping clothes.

“I think I’m going to sleep on the couch,” Yuuri said, pulling his pyjama pants on under his towel. 

“What? Wh—why?” 

Yuuri pulled on his shirt and turned to look at Victor, whose hands were clenched in the sheets. 

“I just need to be alone right now.” Yuuri grabbed a pillow and walked over to the couch, hoping that Victor wouldn’t follow him, but of course Victor got up from bed immediately. 

“Can’t we talk about this?” he asked, hovering near Yuuri but not touching him.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Yuuri said, his voice sounding dead to even his own ears.He threw the pillow on one end of the couch, looking around for a blanket. 

“Yuuri, please.” Victor touched his arm hesitantly. “Please, just look at me?” 

Yuuri sighed, meeting Victor’s gaze. 

“Can we just go back to the way things were?” Victor asked, his voice hoarse.

Yuuri crossed his arms, feeling conflicted, because that’s what he wanted too. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“But I—”

Yuuri shook his head, closing his eyes. He felt exhausted, mentally and physically. “Victor, I’m really tired. I just want to sleep.”

Yuuri opened his eyes again, and they looked at each other for a long moment. 

Victor opened his mouth as if he were about to say something else, but then he closed it again. He looked at the couch. 

“At least let me sleep here. You just skated, you need a real bed.”

Yuuri looked at the couch, and back at the bed. “Fine,” he said, walking back over to the bed. He threw a blanket in Victor’s general direction, and then got under the covers, turning out the light.

He closed his eyes, listening to Victor as he made a makeshift bed on the couch, the guilt and remorse seeping into his brain, despite himself. He missed Victor, his presence, even though he was only a few feet away... but at the same time, he didn't feel like he could deal with Victor cuddling him in bed right now.

He sighed, thumping his head once on his pillow, willing himself to sleep. It took a long time for him to drift off, and even then, his sleep was fitful long into the night.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri woke up feeling just as exhausted as when he’d gone to bed. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and squinting out at the suite, only to see that the couch was empty. Their flight wasn’t until the early afternoon, so it must not be too late; Victor would have woken him up. 

Unless he’d left Yuuri and gone back to Russia. 

A slice of panic hit his gut, his mind immediately spiralling away, imagining Victor getting up in the middle of the night and silently leaving the suite, never looking back. Yuuri got up, padding over to the couch and touching the pillow. It looked like Victor had been up for a while, considering that the pillow was no longer warm. 

Yuuri walked quickly over to the closet, his heart starting to pick up as he opened the door. 

Victor’s suitcase was still inside. Yuuri sighed in relief, leaning his head against the doorframe. 

The sound of the door to the hotel room opening and closing made him turn around. 

Victor was standing in the entryway, holding two to-go cups, staring at him. His usual easy confidence and sunny smile were absent, and he looked like he hadn’t really slept.

Yuuri twisted his hand into the bottom of his shirt, overwhelmed with the sudden desire to run over to Victor and pull him into his arms, to inhale the scent at the nape of his neck. He wanted to prove to himself that Victor wasn’t going to leave, even though he’d completely fucked everything up, and essentially kicked Victor out of bed—their bed?—the night before. 

Victor stepped forward tentatively, holding out one of the cups. “I got you some fresh tea, since we ran out of your favorite,” he said.

“Oh. Thank you.” Yuuri walked over tentatively, taking the proffered cup and taking a sip. It was still hot, and it warmed his insides in more ways than one.

No matter what had happened the night before, Victor had still gotten him tea, just like always. 

Victor looked down at his own cup, flicking his thumbnail against the plastic lid, his eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks. Yuuri once again yearned to touch him. Victor usually touched him casually all the time, but he’d stopped after Yuuri had flinched away outside the club. 

A stab of regret hit Yuuri in the solar plexus.

Victor cleared his throat, seeming to brace himself to say something. “Yuuri, I… I was thinking about last night.” 

Yuuri swallowed. _Here it comes, he’s going to say it. ‘I thought you knew this was just an arrangement for our mutual benefit. You’re in too deep. I should have realized after I heard about the interview._  

“I… um.”Victor just looked up and met his eyes, and there was a deep sadness there that took Yuuri by surprise. 

“Yes?” Yuuri croaked. 

Victor wet his bottom lip with his tongue, and Yuuri couldn’t help but follow the movement with his eyes.

“Never mind,” Victor said, turning away slightly and shaking his head. “Never mind,” he muttered as he walked over to the closet, taking out his suitcase.

“Maybe we should leave a little early for the airport. It might be crowded,” Victor said over his shoulder, not looking at Yuuri.

Yuuri watched him throw his expensive clothes into the suitcase without folding them, feeling even more confused than before.

 _What were you going to say?_ He wanted to ask.

“Okay,” he said eventually, turning to walk into the bathroom. He needed another long shower.

 

 

* * *

They spent the two-hour flight from Sapporo to Fukuoka in a tense silence, only speaking when necessary. Yuuri spent the entire flight playing a game while Victor listened to music on his phone, looking out the window. Yuuri felt the tension of it all settling into his shoulders.

After they arrived in Fukuoka, they took a cab from the airport to the train station, so they could take the train the rest of the way to Hasetsu. Once they had stowed their bags, Yuuri settled into one of the seats and took out his game player again as the train left the station. Victor, however, didn’t take out his book or his phone; he just sat in the farthest corner of the cabin by the window, looking out at the shore passing by. 

Yuuri snuck glances at Victor periodically over his game, and Victor still seemed… deflated? No, not quite the right word. Tired, certainly, but he also appeared almost sad. Which made no sense.

Yuuri felt like he should say something—reassure Victor that he wasn’t in love with him, that he knew this was just for business.His other options were limited; he could leave Victor without any explanation and go back home, train with Celestino again, but the very idea turned his stomach. He could tell Victor the truth—not appealing after what had happened at the club—or lie and tell him that he was still willing to stay in it for the sponsorships. The latter was less appealing, but still better than losing Victor altogether.

In the end, Yuuri said nothing, just hunched his shoulders and slid down in the seat, eyes trained on his game.

Eventually, Victor dropped off to sleep, his head against the window. Yuuri put his game player down in his lap, watching him. He wondered how much Victor had even slept the night before, and felt guilty again that he’d been on the couch. It must not have been very comfortable. 

Victor whimpered in his sleep, his brow furrowing as his his lips parted slightly. Yuuri’s hands twitched with the desire to wrap him in his arms and calm him down. 

“Прости, любовь моя, прости,”[1] Victor mumbled.

“Vitya,” Yuuri breathed. It hurt, not being able to touch him, to soothe the wrinkles on his forehead and reassure him even in sleep.

“Пожалуйста, прости меня,”[2] Victor mumbled. “Мне тебя не хватает.”[3] He reached out a little in his sleep, and before Yuuri knew what he was doing, he got up and crossed over to sit next to Victor, grabbing his hand.

“It’s okay, Victor,” Yuuri said softly. “It’s just a nightmare.”

Victor’s eyes blinked open a little. “Yuuri,” he said. He closed his eyes again, swallowing, and then reopened them, still looking sleepy. “You’re… holding my hand,” he said.

“Sorry, you were just having a nightmare, I—” Yuuri made to pull away, to stand up.

“No,” Victor held on to his hand, not letting him go. “Please, just… stay with me?” 

Yuuri ducked his head for a moment, looking at their clasped hands. “Okay,” he said.

Victor sighed in apparent relief, shifting his gaze back out the window. Yuuri settled back a little, scrolling through Facebook with his free hand. 

“The ocean here is so beautiful,” Victor commented, after a while. 

Yuuri followed his gaze out the window. _Like your eyes_ , he thought. _But yours are more like the ocean in summertime, the winter ocean is too grey_.

“Yeah,” he said out loud. 

They sat like that for a while, Victor’s thumb stroking Yuuri’s hand lazily. Yuuri was about to lean his head against Victor’s shoulder when Victor turned to look at him, brow furrowed again. 

“We are going to be alright, aren’t we?” he blurted out. 

Yuuri took a deep breath. He didn’t know how to answer that, because he had been asking himself the same question all day; but the pleading look in Victor’s eyes made his heart catch in his throat.

He nodded.

Victor seemed to relax, then, and he nodded back, settling into his seat. Hesitating only momentarily, Yuuri acted on his impulse to lean his head against Victor’s shoulder, and Victor sighed, brushing a couple of fingers through Yuuri’s hair.

It still felt like they weren’t back to the way they were, but at least they were touching again. For now, that was enough.

 

 

* * *

They arrived in Hasetsu as the afternoon light was starting to slant over the water, and Yuuri was surprised to see that the train station now had raised tracks. He counted back mentally and realized it had been over five years since he’d been home, and wondered what else had changed.

A wave of guilt washed over him. Maybe if he’d made more time in his schedule before or after competitions he could have come home sooner, seen Vicchan one last time. Of course, Victor didn’t know about Vicchan… it still felt like touching a raw nerve whenever Yuuri thought about bringing it up, so he hadn’t.

“Are you excited to see your family again?” Victor asked, as if reading his thoughts.

Yuuri chewed his bottom lip a little. “Yeah.”

The train slowed to a halt, and they grabbed their backpacks and suitcases before getting off.

They took the escalators down to the bottom level. As they were descending, Victor (who was below Yuuri on the steps) turned his head to the left, a broad grin blooming over his face. 

“Oh my god,” Victor said, taking out his phone and snapping a photo. “Yuuri, look!” 

“What?” Yuuri followed his gaze. “Oh, _no_ ,” he muttered.

Victor got to the end of the escalator and immediately walked over to the three giant posters of a larger-than-life Yuuri in his Japanese National team outfit. They had been hung prominently on the wall, along with a giant banner reading: _Hasetsu: Home town of Katsuki Yuuri!_

“This is _fantastic_ ,” Victor said gleefully. 

“No, this is embarrassing.” Yuuri ducked his head, pulling his hat down a little more over his ears. 

Victor looked at him over his shoulder. “Yuuri, come take a photo of me in front of them.”

Yuuri shook his head. “No.”

Victor pouted. “Fine, I’ll just take a selfie,” he said, turning around throwing up a peace sign with his free hand as he took some shots with his phone. 

“ _Katsuki Yuuri? Is that you_?” a woman asked behind him.

Yuuri sighed. He was hoping that he wouldn’t be recognized—talking to strangers was really the last thing he wanted to do right now—but that was apparently not going to be the case.

He turned around and smiled at the middle-aged woman, pulling his mask down. “ _Yes, it’s me_.”

The woman beamed, and the little girl who was holding her hand gaped up at him, wide-eyed.

The woman nudged her, but the girl shook her head and hid behind the woman’s legs. “ _Sorry, I don’t know why she’s being so shy… you’re her hero!_ ” the woman said, looking sheepish. “ _We watched you win at Nationals yesterday. She just started taking lessons at Ice Castle, and she has a poster of you in her room. Can we have your autograph?_ ”

“ _Of course_.” Yuuri waited patiently while the woman looked through her purse for a pen and paper. Yuuri signed the autograph, then the woman took a photo of him with the girl.

In the meantime, several other people had started watching them, murmuring and pointing. 

By the time Victor appeared at his elbow, there was a large group of people surrounding Yuuri, clamoring for autographs or selfies. 

“Fans?” Victor asked.

“Yeah,” Yuuri said as he signed an autograph for an older man.

“And who are you, young man?” An old woman—probably the man’s wife—asked Victor in English.

Victor looked delighted that he hadn’t been recognized, even though he was arguably one of the most famous people in the world. 

“I’m Yuuri’s husband,” he said proudly. 

“Oh wonderful!” the old woman smiled, patting his cheek. “You two make such a handsome couple. You must be so proud of him.” 

“Of course I am, I couldn’t be more proud,” Victor said.

“Victor,” Yuuri hissed.

“What? It’s true,” Victor said, and Yuuri ducked his head in embarrassment.

“ _Can I have your autograph too, Katsuki Yuuri_?” a familiar woman’s voice said in Japanese from behind him.

Yuuri laughed and turned around.

“ _Minako!_ ” he said, hugging her. “ _How did you know when I was going to get here_?”

“ _I have my ways_ ,” she said, squeezing him tightly then releasing him. 

Yuuri raised his eyebrows, and she rolled her eyes.

“ _Okay, well, actually, your mom told me. Welcome back after five long years!_ ”

“ _It’s so good to see you_ ,” Yuuri said, laughing. He glanced over at Victor, who was waiting next to them patiently. 

“Oh, um, this is Victor,” he said, switching to English. “Victor, this is Minako, my old ballet instructor.” 

“Hello,” Minako said, also switching to English. She had toured the world when she was dancing professionally, so she knew more languages than Yuuri did. She smiled at Victor a little coquettishly, holding out her hand. “Okukawa Minako.”

“Victor Nikiforov,” he said, shaking her hand.

“Oh yes, I _know_ who you are.” She eyed him up and down.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “So are you here to pick us up?”

“Yes, of course,” Minako said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Everyone’s dying to see you.”

There were a few more people who wanted autographs, and Yuuri smiled for photos, until finally he made his excuses and they were able to leave.

Minako chattered away in English as she led them to the car, dragging one of Yuuri’s suitcases for him. 

They reached the car and Minako popped the trunk. “And then the Kobayashis closed, too, which was such a shame, they moved to Fukuoka last month—” 

“What?” Yuuri helped her put his suitcase in the car. “The Kobayashis folded too?” 

“Yep.” Minako nodded, helping Victor with his suitcase as well. “Yu-topia is officially the only Onsen left in Hasetsu. But your parents are actually doing really well, especially since you won nationals—they are booked for months!”

“Really? People want to go there just because of me?” Yuuri slid into the front seat, and Victor got in the back.

“You better believe it. And my ballet studio and Ice Castle have both had an upsurge of people signing up too,” she said, winking as she started the engine. 

“What’s Ice Castle?” Victor asked with interest.

“It’s the skating rink where I trained as a kid,” Yuuri said.

Victor brightened. “Oh, we definitely have to go there at some point.” 

“O—okay.” Yuuri chewed his bottom lip. He had thought about bringing Victor there, of course, especially since they were going to have to train somewhere while they were visiting. But everything between them still felt a little odd, a little off-kilter. Taking Victor to Ice Castle was essentially like inviting Victor to see his past, his true self, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that.

They finally arrived at the onsen as dusk was falling over the city. As Yuuri dragged his suitcase up the pathway to the front door, his gear bag over his shoulder, he felt like he was twelve years old again, coming home from watching Victor on TV and being determined to skate on the same ice as him someday. 

“I’m back,” he called out as he walked in the front door, looking around. There were a few patrons still eating dinner, and they all turned to look at him curiously. 

Before Yuuri could feel self-conscious, he was immediately assailed by Hiroko. 

“ _Yuuri!_ ” She tugged him into a tight hug. “ _You’re finally here_.” 

“ _Hi, Mom_.” Yuuri couldn’t quite breathe because she was squeezing his lungs. “ _I’m sorry it’s been so long._ ” 

She finally released him, smiling broadly. “ _None of that now. We are all just so proud of you. We watched you win yesterday. Do you want a pork cutlet bowl to celebrate your victory?_ ”

Yuuri grinned. “ _Yeah, that would be great_.”

Victor walked in, dragging his own suitcase, Minako in his wake. Hiroko immediately beamed at them. “ _Minako, thank you for bringing them home_.”

“ _No problem_ ,” Minako said. 

Hiroko turned and smiled at Victor. “ _And this must be your Victor_.”

“ _Yes_ — _I mean, no, not_ _my_ _Victor, that is_ —” Yuuri babbled, but Hiroko was already walking over to Victor. 

“ _I’m so glad to finally meet you_ ,” Hiroko said, hugging Victor as well. He looked surprised but hugged her back. 

“ _He doesn’t really speak a lot of Japanese, Mom_ —” Yuuri started to say. 

“It’s okay, I understood that,” Victor said. “ _Pleased to meet you_ ,” he said in Japanese. 

Hiroko looked delighted as she released him. “ _Oh, he’s learning Japanese for you! How wonderful! Victor, you must come back when the cherry trees are blooming, and we can hold a proper wedding for you and Yuuri._ ”

Victor looked at Yuuri in confusion, obviously not understanding what she’d said. Yuuri cleared his throat and translated for him. 

Victor’s eyes flashed with that same emotion Yuuri had seen all day—the one that looked like sadness, but couldn’t be—and nodded at Hiroko. “ _I would love that_ ,” he said slowly in Japanese. “But it’s up to Yuuri, of course,” he added in English.

Yuuri frowned, watching him.

“ _What did he say?_ ” Hiroko asked. 

Yuuri shook his head. “ _It’s not important_.”

“Yuuri!” Toshiya entered the room, wiping his hands on his apron. “ _Welcome home_.” 

“ _Hi, Dad_.” 

Toshiya grinned, squeezing Yuuri’s shoulder. When he noticed Victor, his eyebrows raised in delight. “ _Oh, and this must be Victor!_ ” 

“ _Pleased to meet you_ ,” Victor said again, holding out his hand.

Toshiya beamed at him, taking his hand and clasping his other hand on top of it. “ _We are so happy that you make our son happy_.”

Victor glanced at Yuuri, who translated again for him, feeling his cheeks heat. This was even harder than when they had had to pretend for Inessa; it was _his_ parents, now, that he was lying to. Not only that, but the events of the previous night made it so much harder to pretend that they were a happy newly-married couple.

“ _I’ll whip up some pork cutlet bowls to celebrate!_ ” Toshiya said, grinning at them both before he headed back to the kitchen.

 

 

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Victor was tucking into his second pork cutlet bowl like there was no tomorrow.

“Vkusno!” he said for the third time. “This must be what god eats! Yuuri, I can’t believe you were holding out on me.”

“I wasn’t,” Yuuri said, his own mouth full. “I told you it’s my favorite food on our first date—” he stopped, realizing what he’d said. It hadn’t been a date; not really. It had been fake, for the publicity.

“And when was that, exactly?” Mari said from behind them.

Yuuri turned to look at her. She was leaning against the doorframe, watching Victor curiously. 

“Um, it’s… hard to remember,” Yuuri mumbled. “Hi, Mari.”

She nodded. “Welcome back. So this is Victor,” she said.

“Sorry, yes. Victor, this is my sister Mari,” Yuuri said, getting up from his seat.

“Yes, of course, nice to meet you,” Victor said, getting up and walking over to her.

She shook his hand, but was still watching him with a bit of skepticism. “Yeah, same,” she said. “So how long are you two staying?” she asked, taking out a cigarette and her lighter.

Yuuri shrugged. “A few days.”

Mari nodded, putting her cigarette in her mouth and lighting it. “You should take him for a soak in the hot springs.”

“I will.” Yuuri cleared his throat, looking over at Victor. “ _Did you take down the posters in my room?_ ” he asked in Japanese.

Mari snorted a little. “ _Yeah, I did. It would have been really funny if I’d left them there though. Also, we put one of the queen-sized beds in there for you. Figured you’d want more room than the twin bed_.” She winked, and Yuuri felt the flush creep up his neck.

Victor looked back and forth between them in confusion.

Yuuri was saved from having to translate, however, because at that moment Victor’s cell phone rang.

“Oh, it’s Mama. I have been telling her I’d call her back for days, I better take this.” Victor sighed, answering the call and starting to chatter away in Russian as he walked toward the front of the onsen.

“ _He’s really hot_ ,” Mari observed in Japanese, watching him walk away. “ _Even hotter than he looks in your posters_.”

“ _I know_ ,” Yuuri said. It was true; Victor was even more beautiful in person than he could have ever imagined. Once again, he felt a slice of pain in his chest, wondering how everything had gone so horribly wrong. 

Mari touched his arm, and he realized he’d been staring after Victor wistfully.

“ _Is something wrong_?” she asked. 

Yuuri averted his gaze. Sometimes Mari was too observant.

“ _Um, no_ ,” he muttered. “ _What could be wrong_?” 

Mari paused, and Yuuri knew she was likely not convinced. “ _If you ever want to talk, I’m here_ ,” she said. 

Yuuri chewed his bottom lip.“ _Thank you_.”

Mari nodded, and starting to walk back toward the kitchen. “ _I better help dad, there’s still a lot of cleaning up to do_.”

Yuuri sighed. He was about to go out and see if Victor was done on the phone when he felt his own phone ring in his pocket. He pulled it out and sucked in a breath when he saw the caller ID: it was Phichit. 

Yuuri did the math in his head; Phichit must have just gotten off the plane in Detroit and seen all the videos and photos of their kiss from the night before.

Yuuri stared at the phone as it rang, hesitating, because he didn’t really want to talk about all that had happened in the past day. He let it go to voicemail, and was about to put it back in his pocket when it immediately rang again. Phichit was obviously not going to give up until he got through to Yuuri.

Yuuri looked over at Victor through the front doors; he was still on the phone, gesturing as he told a story and smiling.

Before he could change his mind, Yuuri turned and walked over to the back door, glancing over his shoulder, but no one was paying attention to him. He slipped out unnoticed, pressing “accept” as he shut the outer door behind him.

“Hi,” Yuuri said, his voice cracking a little. He strode quickly toward the back of the hot springs where no one would be at that time of night.

“Yuuri,” Phichit breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally. I just landed and saw all these posts and alerts, and… are you okay?”

Yuuri sat down behind the biggest sculpture, hoping to stay unseen. “No,” he choked out.

Phichit sighed over the line. “Oh Yuuri. Tell me what happened,” he said softly.

He bent his head to rest it against his knees, tears starting to sting his eyes. Suddenly the only thing he wanted to do was to see his best friend, to cry on his shoulder. The distance between them felt infinite. 

“He... “ Yuuri closed his eyes. “He took me out to this club, after the competition. To celebrate.” He paused, sniffling. 

“I figured, based on the twitter posts.” 

Yuuri nodded, even though Phichit couldn’t see him. “We had a couple of drinks, and he wanted to dance, and…”

“And?”

Yuuri twisted his free hand in his hair. “And he was just so… I almost started to think…” he shook his head, sniffling again, thinking about what it had been like to have Victor’s full attention—to dance with him, to feel his body against Yuuri’s. 

“Then he put his arms around me and… he begged to kiss me. I couldn’t say no.” Saying it out loud was even worse, somehow, like someone had taken an ice pick to his chest.

Phichit made a little choked off noise. “And you kissed him, obviously.” 

“Yeah, I did. It felt like... like he… really wanted me,” his voice cracked again. “But then…” 

“What did he do?” Phichit’s voice was suddenly much more harsh than before. 

Yuuri watched the tears splashing onto his jeans. In the momentary silence, he heard soft footfalls in the distance. 

“Hold on, it sounds like someone is coming,” he whispered into the phone, listening. The footsteps stopped, and he waited, his heart pounding a little.

“Are they gone?” Phichit asked eventually. 

Yuuri listened again, but he didn’t hear anything.“Must be.”

“So then what happened?" 

“Then some guy took a photo of us and there was a huge flash, and I saw all the other people were taking photos and videos… and Victor said something about us being all over Twitter. I realized that he was just doing all of it for the Nike deal. He doesn’t really want me at all.” Yuuri put his hand to his chest, over the physical ache. Everything that had happened, all he’d felt in the past two days, was finally crashing down on him. 

“Oh, Yuuri.” Phichit’s voice sounded rough, like he was in pain, too. 

“I don’t know what to do.” Yuuri closed his eyes, the tears falling freely now.“I just... I love him so much.” 

Phichit sighed, sounding really tired. “I know you do.”

“It hurts.” 

Phichit paused. “I can’t convince you to come back now, can I?” 

“Is that what you think I should do?” Yuuri’s voice wobbled a little.

“I think you should seriously consider it, yes. It’s just going to get worse the longer you’re with him." 

Yuuri thunked his forehead against his knees once. “I know,” he said quietly.

There was a long pause, and Phichit sighed again. 

“Maybe you should get away from him for a while at least. You’re at your parents’ house now, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Go to the rink and skate. You know how it helps you alleviate your anxiety, and helps you get centered.”

Yuuri sniffled again. Phichit was right; he should get away from Victor for a little bit. Maybe things would become a little more clear if he did.

“Are you going to go?” Phichit prompted after several seconds of silence.

“Yeah,” Yuuri whispered. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

“Okay. Good. I think it’ll help.” 

“Thanks Phichit.”

Phichit sighed. “I just wish I could be there for you right now.”

Yuuri closed his eyes, bowing his head. “I wish you could be too.”

 

 

* * *

Yuuri managed to slip into a side entrance of the onsen, grab his gear bag, and slip back out quickly. He didn’t want to be seen by anyone, especially Victor. Phichit was right; he needed to get out, get some space. The best place to do that was on the ice.

Luckily, Yuuri was still wearing his track pants and zip-up hoodie from the plane, so he didn’t have to change clothes. He ran to the rink, his breath billowing out in front of his face as he went, the physical exertion already starting to clear his head. 

When he got to the rink, it looked like it was closed—or close to it—but he went inside anyway. 

Yuuko was behind the desk, putting skates away. 

“ _Sorry, we’re closed, come back tomorrow!_ ” she called over her shoulder. 

“ _How about a little ice time for an old friend?_ ” Yuuri said, rubbing his hands together, trying to warm them. 

Yuuko immediately stood up, her eyes brightening. “ _Oh my god, Yuuri!_ ” she clambered over the front desk and launched herself into his arms.

Yuuri laughed, hugging her back. 

“ _I didn’t know you were coming back! I would have planned a welcome party or something. Is Victor coming too?_ ” 

“ _That’s really not necessary,"_  Yuuri said, rubbing the back of his neck. _"I just came to skate a little. Victor’s still at the onsen_.”

She clasped her hands together over her mouth. “ _You know, when we were kids, I would never have imagined that we would be here now, with you just having won Japanese nationals! I mean, I could have imagined it, but you know what I mean_ ,” she babbled. “ _I’m so proud of you. My triplets are your biggest fans_.” 

Yuuri felt his cheeks heat a little. “ _It still doesn’t even feel real. I can’t believe I actually won, you know?_ ” 

Yuuko punched him in the arm. “ _I do. You were amazing, anyone can see that you deserved it. Anyway, go skate, I have to finish putting the skates away_.”

“ _Do you mind?_ ” 

“ _Of course I don’t mind! It’s empty, go ahead._ ” She winked at him and turned back to her work. 

Yuuri walked quietly into the mostly-dark rink and changed into his skates. He glided out, stopping in center ice where he’d first learned to skate as a four-year-old. On far back side, there was a brand-new banner that proclaimed: _Ice Castle Hasetsu, home rink of Katsuki Yuuri!_  

He stood there for a moment, and it finally, truly hit him.

He was the Japanese National Champion. He was going to compete in the World Championships, representing his country. And he was married to Victor Nikiforov, the man he’d emulated his entire career… even though it was fake.

It was all surreal. The tiny, chubby Yuuri who was so unsure on his skates and about himself as a person would be in awe of where he was now.

Yuuri stood there for a few minutes, letting it all sink in, until he started to feel cold.

He turned away from the banner and warmed up for a while, trying to concentrate on anything but Victor, but he couldn’t keep thoughts of him from bleeding into his head. He imagined going back to Detroit and not seeing Victor every day, not sleeping next to him or seeing his sleep-mussed hair in the morning. Those thoughts gave him a deep ache in his chest.

On the other hand, going home would mean that his unrequited love for Victor could possibly die a quieter death than it would if he stayed. He was prolonging his agony this way. 

Yuuri frowned down at the ice as he worked on switching his edges. Phichit was right. He should just go home, try to heal his broken heart with time and distance. 

Eventually Yuuri found himself at center ice again, and he chewed his lip a little. He could go through his routines, or… he could do the other routine, the one he had been working on in secret. 

The silence of the rink felt deep, like a curtain of dark emptiness. There was something about being on the ice all alone that made him feel more himself, more sure of everything. He sighed, closing his eyes, breathing deeply. He let himself relax, smelling the ice, listening to the faint sounds of Yuuko closing up out front.

He opened his eyes and looked up at the banner again. He had come so far, given up so much, gained so much.

But every time he imagined a future, he couldn’t think of one without Victor in it. It was like contemplating a future without breathing.

Yuuri swallowed, realizing that he had already made the decision.

He was choosing door number three: stay with Victor, and keep his love a secret.

Until Victor told him to leave, he was staying… for better or worse.

Sighing, Yuuri rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension leave them a little, as he settled into a starting pose: one leg behind the other, head bent.

He didn’t have the music with him, of course, but he knew it by heart. As the opening notes started in his head, he trailed his hand down his face, twirling on the spot. 

He closed his eyes, letting the silent music flow through him, twisting through the turns. 

When he launched into the first jump, landing lightly on his blade, he knew that something was different. It was as if he were channeling Victor’s effortless grace, but making it his own. 

 _If only Victor were here, if only he could see_.

 _I love you_ , his body said when he went into the camel spin.

 _I love you_ , his blades sang when they connected with the ice at the end of a triple-triple combo.

 _I love you_ , he thought as he waved his arms toward the boards. 

As Yuuri went through the turns, the jumps, the spins, he let himself skate the love for Victor that he couldn’t say in words, not now, possibly not ever. 

Finally, Yuuri froze in the final pose, looking up at the ceiling with his arms around himself. He held it for a long moment, panting, just staring up at the beams.

“Yuuri." 

Startled, Yuuri dropped his arms and looked over to see Victor stepping out of the shadows.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Yuuri squinted, wishing he could see Victor's expression; he had left his glasses on the side of the rink.

Then Victor walked directly out onto the ice, and Yuuri just stood there, frozen, not knowing what to do. 

When he got close enough, Victor cupped Yuuri’s cheeks with his hands, holding him like he was a precious thing. 

“You learned my routine,” he said breathlessly. 

“I… um. Y—yeah,” Yuuri stuttered.

“Why?” Victor’s eyes were darting over his face.

 _Because I love you,_ Yuuri thought. “I just… I wanted to,” he said hoarsely. 

Not for the first time, Yuuri felt pinned in place by the force of Victor’s blue gaze. After a long moment, Victor spoke. 

“Look around, Yuuri. There’s no one here. You see that, right?” 

Yuuri looked around, though he knew that there wasn’t. “Yes.”

“There’s no one else to see this. No cameras, no press. No witnesses. There’s no one to perform for.”

Yuuri’s legs were starting to tremble a little. “Yes.”

Without saying another word, Victor pulled him close and kissed him.

Yuuri made a noise of surprise, then closed his eyes, melting into the kiss.

As they kissed, he realized what Victor had been saying: he wanted to kiss Yuuri. Not for the cameras, not for the money. Just because.

Victor kissed him deeply, then paused, leaning back just a little. “That was only for you.”

“Victor.” Yuuri couldn’t quite breathe. 

“Do you understand me?” 

 _You want me? You want to…_  

“Kiss me,” Yuuri said, in lieu of answering his question. 

This time, their lips met with even more passion, more heat. It was like the night before, in the club, but this time, Yuuri let everything go. Victor’s lips were so soft, so hot compared with the ice under their feet. 

Yuuri slid his hands under Victor’s coat, skimming his fingertips around Victor’s waist.

He didn’t think about how Victor had gotten there, or how he’d known that Yuuri thought they had only been kissing for the publicity.He let himself drown in the sensation of Victor’s body pressed against his own, tilting his head and slipping his tongue into Victor’s mouth. He sucked on Victor’s luscious bottom lip, raking his fingernails up Victor’s back and eliciting a moan from Victor.

 _I want you too_ , he thought, pouring everything he had into the kiss. _God, how I want you._

Victor stopped kissing him abruptly and pulled back. Yuuri almost fell forward on his skates, chasing the kiss. Victor licked his lips, wide-eyed, his expression dark and hard and hungry.

“I want to take you to bed. Can I?”

Yuuri felt like he was going to faint. He collapsed forward a little, pressing his forehead to Victor’s shoulder, trying to breathe. 

Victor wanted to sleep with him. 

 _Is this even real?_  

“Yuuri?” Victor smoothed his hair down a bit. “Can I?” 

“Yes,” Yuuri said, his voice hoarse.

 

 

* * *

They took a cab back to the onsen, holding hands in the backseat, thighs pressed together. Yuuri kept glancing at Victor, only to see that Victor was glancing at him too, and they both giggled and looked back out their respective windows again. Yuuri felt lighter than air, elation coursing through him. He was barely able to stop himself from straddling Victor and kissing him senseless, even though it was only a five minute ride back home. Now that this was happening, _finally_ , after all this time, he didn’t want to waste a single minute not being with Victor, touching him, kissing him.

When they finally got back, thankfully, the onsen was dark. Yuuri took Victor’s hand and silently pulled him through the dark dining room and down the hall, praying that his mother was asleep and wouldn’t suddenly accost them in the hallway. 

They made it to his room without seeing anyone, and Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door. Victor immediately pushed him up against it, kissing him so hard that Yuuri’s breath was taken away, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to hold back, not anymore. 

Victor shrugged off his coat without breaking the kiss, and Yuuri whined, wanting to be closer, to have more of Victor. He wrapped one of his legs around him, grinding his hips against Victor’s. 

“Too… many… clothes…” Yuuri said in between kisses, and Victor made a noise of assent, but he just kept kissing Yuuri as if he needed it more than air. 

Yuuri put his leg down, walking Victor toward the bed. Once the back of Victor’s legs hit the mattress, Yuuri pushed him down so that he was sitting, and climbed onto his lap. 

Yuuri rested his forehead against Victor’s, trying to breathe. When their lips met again, he very deliberately slowed down, kissing Victor deeply as he started unbuttoning Victor's shirt. He still felt the frantic passion of before, but he was going to enjoy this, make it last. He could only have a first time once—a first time with _Victor_ once, too. 

Victor lifted Yuuri’s sweatshirt up and Yuuri broke the kiss long enough that he could pull it off and throw it aside, then Yuuri pulled Victor’s shirt off his shoulders and tossed it aside as well.

He was about to pull Victor into a kiss again, but he stopped, because Victor was looking at him with wonder, brushing his fingertips over Yuuri’s clavicle. Victor leaned in to replace his fingers with his mouth, pressing light grazing kisses along his collarbone and up his neck, and Yuuri’s eyes fell closed. Victor’s kisses meandered aimlessly, as if he wanted to press his lips to every bit of Yuuri’s skin. He kissed down to his nipple, tonguing it, and Yuuri gasped. Chuckling, Victor repeated the motion on the other side, reaching down to palm Yuuri’s hardening cock through his sweats at the same time. 

“Victor,” Yuuri breathed, twining his hands into Victor’s hair. He’d imagined this—being with Victor—so many times, even before they'd met, and he was overwhelmed by how lucky he was that Victor wanted him. Victor’s tongue against his nipple made him arch his back, his cock jumping again; he felt hot all over, and Victor’s fingers were cold against his skin. He could feel Victor’s cock hardening under his ass, the roughness of Victor’s tongue against his skin, the silky strands of Victor’s hair between his fingertips. 

There were so many things he wanted to do, to try. He wanted it all. 

Yuuri pulled Victor’s face up to his own again to kiss him deeply, then swung off his lap and sank down onto his knees, pressing Victor’s legs wide. Victor’s hair was a complete mess, his nose pink. 

“Are you—do—do you—” Victor stuttered.

“Please, I just, I need to—” Yuuri said inarticulately, unbuckling and unzipping Victor’s perfectly pressed trousers. “Lift up.” 

Victor obeyed, and Yuuri pulled down his pants until he could throw them aside. 

He skimmed his nose up Victor’s thigh, nuzzling at his cock through his black boxer-briefs, and Victor whined, carding his hand into Yuuri’s hair. 

Yuuri inhaled Victor’s scent—his arousal, and his expensive cologne—for a long moment. Then he licked up the shaft of his cock through the underwear.

Victor closed his eyes, twisting his hand in Yuuri’s hair, moaning loudly.

“Shhhh.” Yuuri chided, but he was secretly thrilled that he could make Victor lose control, that he could make Victor look like this—cock hard, cheeks flushed, eyes dark. Because of _him_.

Yuuri skimmed his nose up Victor’s clothed cock again, licking at the head through the fabric. 

“You’re killing me,” Victor whispered, eyes wide and dark as he stroked Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri smirked, but he decided to stop torturing him. He peeled down Victor’s underwear enough to let his cock spring free, and stroked it a few times at the base.

Yuuri paused. He hadn’t felt nervous until this moment. He wanted this—he wanted it so much—but what if it wasn’t good for Victor? What if he couldn’t live up to the standard of all of Victor’s past lovers? 

Victor seemed to sense his hesitation, and he leaned down and cupped Yuuri’s cheek.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to do this, солнышко,”[4] he said, breathing a bit unevenly. “We can wait. I don’t want to push you into this if you’re not ready.” 

“No, I—I want to, I really do,” Yuuri stuttered. “Just… tell me what to do, what you like. I haven’t… you know. I haven’t. Before.”

Victor nodded, and Yuuri leaned down to suckle at the head tentatively.

Victor gasped, his hand twisting into Yuuri’s hair again, not pulling, just holding—as if he, too, needed an anchor.

Yuuri bobbed up and down on his cock a little bit, experimentally.

“Oh my god, Yuuri.” Victor shuddered. “You’re so incredibly sexy with my cock in your mouth." 

Yuuri moaned, which made Victor groan at the sensation. 

After a few more bobs, Yuuri assumed he should take more in, so he slid his mouth down Victor’s cock as far as he could go. 

Even though he’d never sucked a cock before, he’d seen it done plenty of times on the internet, and imagined doing it to Victor specifically many times. 

He wasn’t prepared, however, for the choking feeling at the back of his throat when he tried to take Victor all the way in. Yuuri coughed, his eyes watering, and pulled back abruptly.

Victor reached out toward him. “Oh god, Yuuri, are you okay?”

Yuuri took a deep breath and nodded his head. “It was just too much.”

He took a deep breath, swallowing a couple times, as Victor cupped his cheek. 

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” Victor asked, still breathing hard.

Yuuri nodded. “Tell me what you want,” he croaked.

Victor watched him for a moment, as if to make sure he was okay, before nodding. “Just suck a little harder at the head,” he said. “And keep moving your hand.”

Yuuri dove back down again, making sure that this time he didn’t take Victor’s cock in too far, pumping with his hand at the base. Victor started moaning louder again, but Yuuri didn’t dare stop long enough to ask him to be quiet. 

“Боже мой, любимый, твой рот... я ждал тебя так долго, так долго—“[5]

Yuuri pulled off long enough to croak out, “English, please,” then bent back to his work.

“You’re so good at this, I want you so badly, god, your mouth is fantastic,” Victor babbled.

Yuuri could feel the trembling in Victor’s thighs, and he increased the pace, hoping he could get Victor to come—on his face? Down his throat? He wanted both. Yuuri closed his eyes, palming himself through his sweatpants and imagining it. 

“Look at me,” Victor begged, and Yuuri opened his eyes, still moving up and down on Victor’s cock, the flush deep over his nose and cheeks. He tongued at the slit, and Victor bit his lower lip. Yuuri repeated the motion, moving his hand faster and trying to get Victor to come. 

“Wait,” Victor said, pulling Yuuri’s head gently back.

Yuuri wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What? Was it bad? Just tell me what to—”

“No, no, _zolotse_. You were amazing. I just don’t want to come yet,” Victor said, standing up and pulling off his underwear. He threw them aside, then pulled Yuuri up onto the bed, pressing him down to the pillows. He kissed Yuuri slowly as he peeled Yuuri’s pants and underwear down and off, and settled between his thighs, cradling Yuuri’s head in his hands. Yuuri gasped as their unclothed cocks slid against each other.

Victor didn’t move for a long moment, just looking into Yuuri’s eyes and thumbing his bottom lip.

“You’re so incredibly beautiful,” Victor whispered. Yuuri reached up to touch Victor’s cheek, struck again by the fact that this was actually happening... in his childhood bedroom, of all places.

Before Yuuri could say anything, Victor leaned down kissed Yuuri deeply again and this—oh, this, this was _heaven_ —Victor’s naked body on top of his own, rocking against him so that their cocks were brushing against one another. Yuuri whined, arching upward because he wanted more of everything, more skin, more Victor, just… _more_. Yuuri reached down to grab Victor’s perfect ass, wrapping his legs around his hips.

Victor licked his palm and reached downward to grasp their cocks together, thrusting upward at the same time.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Yuuri gasped, throwing his head back. It was so intense that he had to close his eyes and concentrate really hard in order not to come right then and there. 

Victor started thrusting his hips forward harder, sucking at the pulse point on Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri felt his whole body shaking, his fingernails digging into Victor’s shoulders, holding on for dear life. They rocked like that for a few minutes, and Yuuri couldn’t imagine anything better… well, except for maybe Victor being inside of him. He shuddered and groaned, imagining it; Victor’s cock thrusting up into his body, the warm heat of him invading Yuuri, claiming him for his. 

“Я люблю тебя,” Victor gasped. "О боже, я люблю тебя Юри."[6]

“Kiss me,” Yuuri panted, feeling himself getting close, and Victor did, sliding his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth.

Victor kept thrusting upward, his cock sliding against Yuuri’s, and Yuuri arched into every thrust, wanting more.

 _I love you_ , Yuuri thought, and he felt like he was being broken in half and put together again as his toes curled into the sheets as everything whited out.

He felt Victor follow not long after, spilling onto Yuuri’s stomach and then collapsing onto him, his hot breaths on Yuuri’s neck. When Yuuri felt somewhat in control of his limbs again, he wrapped them around Victor and just breathed in their collective scent. He could feel Victor trembling, his breaths shaky.

“Are you… are you alright?” Yuuri panted.

Victor didn’t say anything, just turning his face into Yuuri’s neck and kissing it, nuzzling it a little. Yuuri hummed, stroking up Victor’s back with his fingertips.

“We need to shower,” Victor said eventually. “Or at least clean up.”

“Mmmph,” Yuuri mumbled.

Victor shifted off of him long enough to grab a shirt from the ground and wipe them both off, then he pulled Yuuri to him again. 

Yuuri sighed, feeling utterly content, as Victor cupped his cheek, the tenderness in his eyes making Yuuri’s heart jump in his chest. 

“Я люблю тебя,”[7] Victor said softly, tracing Yuuri’s cheek with his thumb.

Yuuri swallowed. “What does that mean?” he whispered. 

Victor just smiled, leaning down to kiss Yuuri so tenderly that he felt he might burst, then tucked his body into Yuuri’s. 

Yuuri drifted for a while, letting himself bask in the heady feeling of being in Victor’s arms.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri drifted for a while, but he couldn’t seem to fall asleep; what had just happened felt too monumental, like his heart and his lungs couldn’t quite fit in his chest. 

He’d had sex. With _Victor._

Yuuri got up and went to the bathroom, and when he came back, he sat on the bed, indulging in just looking at Victor for a while. 

He had spent so many nights in that very room, looking up at the posters of Victor, wondering if he’d ever be good enough to skate against him. A twelve year old boy, daring to dream of competing against his idol on the ice. 

And then there were other nights; nights when he tossed and turned, restless, listening to the sounds of the house. Eventually, he would find himself looking up at the posters on his walls, of the ethereal, silver Victor. He would take himself in hand and imagine that it was Victor’s hand instead, that he could kiss those pink lips as he came. 

Now, Yuuri let his eyes trail down the real Victor’s body, He lay tangled in the bedsheets, the moonlight from Yuuri’s single window filtering onto his naked form. Yuuri's gaze lingered over the powerful though slim thighs, the slope of his hips, and back up to his sleeping face. His eyelashes were fluttering over his cheeks, and he looked so peaceful… so well-fucked.

Victor wanted him... in his bed, at least. For now.

But what about when he got tired of Yuuri, and wanted to move on to another man? It had to happen eventually. Victor has had so many lovers, and none of them lasted.

Yuuri was just the most recent bedmate in a long line of them, and there would certainly be more in the future. 

Victor… Victor was Yuuri’s first, and he wished he could be the last. 

Yuuri’s heart squeezed, and he reached out, trailing his fingertips down Victor’s cheek. Victor smiled a little, muttering under his breath in Russian. 

 _I love you_ , Yuuri thought. He pulled his knees up to his chin and rested his cheek on them, watching Victor sleep, the quiet sound of a hooting owl out in the distance.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …you didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?
> 
>  
> 
> Translations:
> 
> [1] Прости, любовь моя, прости = “I’m sorry, my love, I’m sorry.”
> 
> [2] Пожалуйста, прости меня = “Please forgive me.”
> 
> [3] Мне тебя не хватает = “I miss you.”
> 
> [4] солнышко = "my sun"
> 
> [5] Боже мой, любимый, твой рот... я ждал тебя так долго, так долго— = “Oh my god, my love, your mouth… I have been waiting so long, so long--”
> 
> [6] Я люблю тебя. О боже, я люблю тебя Юри = “I love you. Oh god, I love you Yuuri.”
> 
> [7] Я люблю тебя = “I love you”


	10. Eros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship irrevocably changed, Victor and Yuuri tour around Hasetsu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Ugh, another long delay between chapters, sorry guys. I started a new job in September which made it very difficult to find the time or energy to write. Just know that even if a lot of time passes between chapters I am not giving up on this fic, I will see it through to the end. I am trying to prioritize writing time going forward, so hopefully I will be able to update once a month. I am not sure how many more chapters are left after this one, but I think it’s going to be roughly seven (that’s a pretty rough estimate based on my outline as it is right now, anyway).
> 
> 2) I PASSED MY EXAM!!! YAY!! Thanks for all your comments and messages of support, I truly appreciated it.
> 
> 3) I realized that I have been remiss in posting the fanart that several artists made for this fic. Here are the beautiful works that people have sent to me—and if you know of any others, feel free to message me on tumblr and let me know so I can link them in the next chapter.
> 
> [Art](https://twitter.com/_deeyosa/status/912905547577462786)
> 
> [Art](http://luluhastea.tumblr.com/post/162291564692/this-is-the-best-part-victor-said-after-the)
> 
> [Art](http://victuuriplease.tumblr.com/post/163424798641/saniika-awakening-commission-empty-spaces)
> 
> 4) I now have a native Russian translator, rogovich! She’s been supremely helpful in translating the Russian for this chapter (as well as consulting on Russian cultural stuff), and will be helping me going forward.
> 
> As usual, ten thousand thanks to my beta longhornletters.
> 
> I hope you’re buckled in for some angst because it’s gonna be a bumpy ride…..
> 
>  

  
Yuuri was having an amazing dream: he’d had sex with Victor, and then Victor had slept by his side all night, his long arms wrapped around Yuuri’s body. A feeling of serenity settled around Yuuri’s shoulders like a mantle as he slept. As the birds started to chirp outside his window, Yuuri slowly came to a half-awareness, but he clung to sleep, trying to stay in the cocoon of happiness. He chased the dream, but it fell away, slipping through his fingers until it was gone.

Yuuri sighed, blinking open his eyes and staring at the fuzzy desk across from him.

“Mmm,” someone hummed behind him. An hand slid around his waist in a tender caress and a warm, naked body shuffled up behind him, pressing against Yuuri’s back.

“Victor,” Yuuri breathed, closing his eyes again.

Victor nuzzled Yuuri’s neck. “’S too early.”

Yuuri sighed, tilting his head back. “You’re really here.”

“Of course I am.” Victor started kissing his neck, just light brushes down his throat. “Did you sleep well, милый?”[1]

Yuuri snuggled back into Victor’s body. “Yeah, I did actually.”

“Good.” Victor skimmed his fingers down Yuuri’s stomach, teasingly brushing them against his cock.

“Ahhhh.” Yuuri bucked at the touch, his ass rubbing up against Victor’s hips.

“Mmmm, Yuuri.” Victor shifted a little, moving so that his cock slid between Yuuri’s cheeks. His fingertips brushed against Yuuri’s cock again.

“Tease,” Yuuri gasped.

Victor chuckled. “Am I?” He curled his hand around the base of Yuuri’s cock, stroking him slowly.

“You were saying?” he whispered into Yuuri’s ear.

“Oh my god.” Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face into the pillow.

“Do you want me to stop?” Victor asked, stilling his hand.

“Don’t you dare,” Yuuri hissed.

Victor chuckled, his hand movements beginning again as he started to slide his hips back and forth at the same time. Yuuri gasped, bucking back against Victor, trying to keep himself quiet—the house would be starting to stir at this time of the morning.

But it was hard to be completely silent, because Victor’s cock sliding between his two cheeks made him imagine once again what it would be like for Victor to push into Yuuri’s body, to take him and make him his.

“Victor,” Yuuri moaned, grinding against Victor’s cock a little harder.

“Oh, god, my Yuuri.” Victor’s hand and hips moved even faster.

Yuuri thrust his hips back and forth as quickly as possible, pushing forward into Victor’s hand and bucking back against Victor’s cock, feeling hot and lightheaded and knowing that he was _definitely_ making too much noise now. He clapped his own hand against his mouth to stifle his moans.

Victor leaned over Yuuri’s shoulder to suck at his pulse point, and started moving his hand faster.

“Come for me,” Victor whispered against his skin, and that did it. Yuuri keened, bucking once more into Victor’s hand as he came all over his bedsheets.

“Oh wooooooow,” Yuuri groaned, turning his head into the pillow for a moment to get his breath back. Victor kissed the back of his neck, holding him, and he felt dizzy, incandescent.

Once Yuuri came back to himself a bit, he realized that Victor was still hard. As he turned over, Victor leaned down with the obvious intent to kiss him, but Yuuri turned his head at the last moment.

“Uh. Sorry, I just… haven’t brushed my teeth,” he explained.

Victor’s expression shifted from confusion to mirth. “Don’t care,” he said, cupping Yuuri’s face with both hands and leaning down to sip from Yuuri’s mouth.

They did both have morning breath, but after a moment Yuuri didn’t care either. Victor was holding him tenderly in the morning sunshine, and it was perfect.

Yuuri reached down to take Victor’s still-hard cock in hand, and Victor’s answering shiver sent a small thrill down his spine. “Tell me how you like it,” he whispered against Victor’s lips, twisting his hand a little on the upstroke.

Victor’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned his forehead against Yuuri’s. “A little slower, and tighter.”

Yuuri adjusted his grip, and watched the blush on the tip of Victor’s nose deepen a little.

“Yuuri, god, you’re so beautiful, so gorgeous, I love the way you look when you come,” Victor murmured.

Yuuri leaned down to tongue at one of Victor’s nipples, and Victor made a little keening noise that almost made Yuuri hard again.

He licked the other nipple, stroking him slowly and firmly. Victor was making glorious noises, his hips thrusting into Yuuri’s hand.

“Come back up here,” Victor panted, tipping Yuuri’s head up by the chin, and Yuuri moved up to kiss him again as he stroked Victor’s cock a little faster.

Victor moaned into his mouth, and his cock hardened further as he came. Yuuri gasped, feeling the hot stripes of come on his stomach.

They lay there for a little bit as their heart rates and breathing slowed, and Yuuri basked in the afterglow from the second orgasm in less than twelve hours that he’d shared with Victor.

“Wow,” Victor breathed, rubbing his nose into Yuuri’s hair. “That was amazing.”

“I’ll say.”

Victor propped himself up on his elbow, and Yuuri looked up at him sleepily. His head was silhouetted against the midmorning bright sunlight from the window, creating a kind of halo around his glinting, sleep-mussed hair. Victor grinned, his smile brighter than the light behind him, and he leaned down to press his lips to Yuuri’s, so gently that it almost felt like reverence.

His phone buzzed, and Yuuri picked it up: there were a few texts from Phichit. Yuuri bit his lip, putting it face down again. He didn’t want to have to explain all of this to Phichit… not yet. Not when it was still new, when he still felt the glow of being with Victor like this.

“Is that important?” Victor asked.

“Just Phichit, I’ll text him later.” Yuuri put his hand over Victor’s, smoothing his thumb over his knuckles.

“What should we do today?” Victor asked, his expression soft and warm.

“Wash these sheets, for one thing,” Yuuri said, looking at the mess they’d made of his bed and of each other.

Victor laughed, his head tilting backward, as if Yuuri was the funniest human being in the entire world.

“Oh Yuuri,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss him again, pressing their bodies close together.

It was hard to do, but eventually Yuuri broke the kiss. “We slept longer than usual, so we should probably get dressed and go practice before we do… that… again,” he pointed out.

Victor sighed. “You’re right. Skating first, then more sex. Good plan.”

Yuuri snorted. _When did this become my life?_

Victor was already rolling off the bed and standing up, holding out his hand. “C’mon, солнышко,[2] let’s go shower.”

Yuuri blinked up at him. “What… you mean, together?”

“Of course.” Victor wiggled his fingers impatiently.

Sighing, Yuuri grabbed the outstretched hand and allowed himself to be pulled upright. Victor immediately encircled Yuuri with his arms, kissing him deeply, and Yuuri melted into the embrace.

 _This is bad_ , a voice in the back of his head pointed out. _You are letting yourself get in too deep. What are you going to do when he inevitably leaves you?_

 _Shut up_ , he told the voice, kissing Victor harder.

Victor hummed. “I’m still astonished that I’m able to do that now,” he said breathlessly.

Yuuri licked his bottom lip. “You can do it whenever you want,” he said.

Victor smiled so widely that it caused a little swoop in Yuuri’s stomach. “Really?”

“Really.”

Victor pressed his lips to Yuuri’s once more, as if to solidify the point.

Yuuri’s phone buzzed again, and Victor broke the kiss, chuckling lightly.

“Phichit is very insistent today,” he said.

Yuuri sighed, picked his phone up and turned it off. He took Victor’s hand, leading him toward the bathroom. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up. I want to show you my hometown.”

 

* * *

After they showered and dressed, Victor and Yuuri packed up their skating gear and made their way down to the dining room.

Mari walked out of the kitchen holding two trays of food, placing them in front of two patrons. When she saw Yuuri, her eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

“Good morning, lovebirds,” she said, sounding amused.

“Isn’t it a lovely day?” Victor said brightly. “We are about to go to the rink.”

“You should eat something first, Dad made a ton of food,” Mari said. “Hold on.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, and Victor immediately sat down at one of the unoccupied tables.

“Shouldn’t we get to the rink?” Yuuri said, hesitating. “It’s already almost eleven, and I’m not sure whether it’s even going to be free—”

“We should eat, you have to keep up your  _stamina_.” Victor winked.

Yuuri rolled his eyes at the innuendo, but he acquiesced, sitting down next to Victor.

Mari swept back out of the kitchen with a tray of tea, rice, miso soup and grilled fish for each of them. Once she put the plates down, she crossed her arms and stared at Yuuri again for a bit. Victor immediately tucked into his food, apparently oblivious to her evaluating stare.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Yuuri asked her.

She smirked. “ _Y_ _ou look like you’re high on life_ ,” she said in Japanese. “ _Also, you have at least three hickeys on your neck_.” She lifted her eyebrows before walking off to help some customers in the corner.

Yuuri clapped his hands around his neck and felt his entire face flush red.

“What did she say?” Victor asked, his mouth full.

“Did you give me _hickeys_?” Yuuri hissed under his breath.

Victor’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head to the side a little. “What is this word, ‘hickeys?’”

Yuuri looked around, feeling like his face was on fire, but no one was paying them any attention.

He lifted his hands. “Bruises on my neck? From you sucking on it,” he said, indicating his neck.

Victor squinted. “Oh. Those. I’m sorry, I just…erm. Got a little…what is the phrase. Carried away?” He flushed. “It won’t happen again.”

Yuuri sighed. It wasn’t the end of the world; after all, his family thought he was a newlywed.

“It’s…it’s fine,” he said. “Japanese people are just not usually very...openly sexual, I guess would be the term.” He cleared his throat and pulled his hood of his sweatshirt up. “I’ll just do this until they fade. Maybe find a scarf or something."

Victor nodded, still a bit pink. “Should we run to the rink today?” he asked, changing the subject. “It’s so nice out.”

“You sure you can make it? I wouldn’t want you to sprain something. You’re not as young as you used to be,” Yuuri teased, raising his eyebrows as he sipped his tea.

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor pouted. “You’re so mean to me.” He draped himself over Yuuri, pressing his face into Yuuri’s shoulder.  

Yuuri pushed at Victor. “Vitya, get up. I need to eat, according to my coach.”

“I’m so wounded by your words, I can’t get up,” Victor replied, his voice muffled by his shoulder.

“So wounded that you’re cuddling with me?”

Victor giggled, rubbing his nose into the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt.

Yuuri rolled his eyes, glancing around the room to see if anyone had noticed Victor’s antics. Sure enough, he spotted his mother in the entryway, watching them with a bright smile on her face.

Yuuri smiled back, before turning his face away.

 

 

* * *

As they jogged toward Ice Castle, Yuuri pointed out various Hasetsu landmarks to Victor. There was a little spring in his step; the sun was shining, he had just had sex—twice—with the love of his life. He had almost convinced himself that it was enough, that he didn’t need Victor to love him back.

Almost.

Yuuri quashed the creeping thoughts as quickly as they rose to his mind, shaking his head as he jogged.

“Okay?” Victor asked, his cheeks a little pink from exertion.

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. “And that up there,” he said, pointing, “is Hasetsu Castle. The inside is actually a ninja house.”

“A _ninja house_? Really?” Victor’s eyes brightened. “We are definitely going to see that later.”

“Sure, okay,” Yuuri replied, laughing a little. They finally reached the bottom of the stairs of Ice Castle, and Yuuri slowed to a walk.

“You’re so slow!” Victor shouted over his shoulder, starting to run up the stairs. “Who’s old now?”

Yuuri snorted, running up the stairs after him. As he pulled even with Victor, he looked around to make sure no one was nearby.

He leaned in close enough that only Victor would be able to hear, and whispered, “I can’t wait to suck you off again,” as he passed Victor.

Victor stumbled on the step, blushing, and Yuuri started sprinting harder to the top.

“You were saying?” Yuuri said, once Victor met him at the doors.

Victor pouted. “You cheated.”

“All’s fair in love and war,” Yuuri retorted.

When they opened the door to the rink, the winter breeze blowing in with them, Yuuko’s face popped up from behind the counter.

“ _Oh, my, god_ ,” Yuuko said, staring at Victor.

“Yuuko, hi,” Yuuri said, waving. “Sorry I, er—we—rushed off last night, there was… erm.”

Yuuri blushed, running his hand through his hair. He couldn’t even think of a good lie, because all he’d been able to think about the night before had been getting Victor into bed. He hadn’t thought to find Yuuko before they left and tell her he was finished on the ice.

“That’s okay!” Yuuko squeaked, moving around from behind the counter. “Hi, um. I’m Yuuko,” she said to Victor.

“Victor,” he said, extending his hand.

Yuko giggled, her cheeks flushing. “Yeah, I… um. I know.” She shook his hand.

“ _He’s even hotter in real life_ ,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

“ _That seems to be the consensus_ ,” Yuuri replied.

“Yuuriiiiii,” Victor whined. “Stop speaking in Japanese!”

“We were just talking about how hot you are,” Yuuri said in English, and Victor laughed.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Yuuko hissed, punching him in the arm.

Yuuri shrugged. It was unlike him to be so blunt, but he felt like a different person than he had been the day before. Maybe it was all the endorphins.

“Is the rink open?” Yuuri asked. “We were hoping to get some practice in.”

Yuuko’s face fell a little. “Actually, the youth team is out there right now. I’m so sorry! I would have told them practice was canceled today if I’d known that you were going to be here. I can go tell them to leave—”

“No, no, don’t do that,” Victor said quickly. “I should have called ahead and asked when you had free ice time. I’m still getting used to being a coach… my own coach worked really hard to make my life run smoothly. I need to give him more credit for that, I think.”

Victor flashed one of his brightest smiles, and Yuuko looked like she was going to faint or at least burst a nosebleed.

Yuuri fiddled with the strap of his backpack, annoyed that he couldn’t get out on the ice. “When is it free? Should we come back?”

Yuuko looked at the schedule on the wall. “There’s nothing after free skate ends at eight p.m.”

“Can we book the ice for two hours? I’m happy to pay you extra to keep the rink open late, of course,” Victor said.

“No, no, no.” Yuuko shook her head. “Don’t be silly. I have to pick up the triplets from the babysitter right after we close, otherwise I’d stay while you practice. I’ll just give Yuuri the keys, you two can lock up after you’re done. I’ll clean the ice in the morning before anyone arrives.”

Victor smiled again, his thousand-watt media smile, and touched her shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Yuuko gulped, looking down at his hand and blushing even more deeply. “Really, it’s no problem.”

Yuuri frowned, a brief flash of jealousy in his stomach twisting down into shame. He had no right to be jealous; Victor was touchy and friendly with everyone. And it wasn’t like he had a claim to Victor anyway.

“I’ll see you later tonight, then,” Yuuko said.

Victor nodded. “Until then.”

He turned toward the front doors, and Yuuri followed.

“Where should we go while we wait?” Victor asked, shouldering the door open. “We have eight hours until we can practice.”

Yuuri sighed, looking around. He felt a bit anxious, because he really wanted to get on the ice and he didn’t want to wait.

“I should probably just go work out somewhere,” he said. “Or go for a longer run.”

Victor sighed. “I truly admire your work ethic, but sometimes it’s really annoying.”

Yuuri glared at him. “You find my work ethic _annoying_?”  

“Yeah. It’s pretty hot, too.” He smiled at Yuuri, and this time it was his  _true_ smile—not his media smile, not the one he’d given Yuuko—and Yuuri felt a deep surge of love for him, eviscerating any traces of jealousy from before.

Victor tossed his hair a little as he put his sunglasses back on. “We have plenty of time until Four Continents, you don’t need to be training all day like a maniac. We can just switch our day around and go sightseeing first. Ooh, let’s go to the ninja house!”

Yuuri chewed his bottom lip. Victor was right—there were several weeks to get in shape for Four Continents (and months before Worlds)—but his anxiety was ramping up at the thought of losing practice time. Still, he wasn’t skipping practice completely; it was simply going to be later than usual.

“Okay,” Yuuri acquiesced, starting to walk down the steps from Ice Castle. “And then I want to take you to the beach.”

“Isn’t it kind of cold out for the beach?”

“We aren’t going swimming, just walking along it. I used go running there sometimes before I moved to Detroit. It’s really peaceful. I guess it’s one of my favorite places in the city.”

Victor smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

 

 

* * *

Victor’s eyes lit up when they got to the base of Hasetsu Castle, and he immediately took out his phone to snap a few pictures. “What’s that thing on the top?”

“Sha-Chihoko,” Yuuri said.

“Chihoko? Who the hell is Chihoko?” Victor shaded his eyes to look upward.

“ _Sha-_ Chihoko," Yuuri corrected. "It’s just the name of the statue. It’s a sort of giant metal fish.”

“I want to take a picture in front of it!” Victor said.

“Alright, here, I’ll take it,” Yuuri offered, reaching out to take the phone.

Victor shook his head. “No, no, I want you in it.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Yuuri mumbled. Victor strode over to an older couple who were walking by, and made some gestures indicating that he wanted them to take a picture.

Victor walked back to Yuuri and slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Hasetsu castle!” Victor said, grinning and throwing up a peace sign.

The old man took several pictures, then gestured toward Victor.

“I wanna see!” Victor bounded over to him like a puppy.

He looked at the photos, grinning and thanking the couple in Japanese before walking back over to Yuuri.

“I’m definitely putting this on Instagram,” Victor said, already choosing a filter as they started to walk around the perimeter. “So what’s inside?”

“Nothing really, it’s just a facade. The ninja house thing is mostly a gimmick.”

“ _Katsuki Yuuri?”_ someone asked from behind them.

Yuuri sighed, pausing and turning to see a woman with a stroller staring at them, wide-eyed.

 _“It is you!_ ” the woman exclaimed, her eyes feverish with delight. “ _My friends are never going to believe I saw you. Can I have your autograph_?”

Yuuri made a short bow. “ _Of course_.”

The woman beamed. “ _Let me just look for a pen_ ,” she said, opening her bag.

Yuuri sighed, glancing at Victor, who was watching him curiously.

“She wants my autograph,” Yuuri explained.

“Of course.” Victor nodded.

“Here,” the woman said, handing Yuuri a paper napkin and a pen.

Victor had moved around the stroller, and started cooing at the baby, wiggling his fingers. The baby giggled and squirmed a little in its stroller.

“ _Who should I make it out to_?” Yuuri asked, signing the napkin.

“ _My name is Himari_ ,” the woman said. “ _Do you mind if I take a selfie with you too_?”

“ _Sure, no problem_.” Yuuri moved close enough that she could snap a picture of them. It still felt odd that strangers wanted a picture of him, but the strangest thing about it was that these interactions were starting to feel routine.

“ _What is name_?” Victor asked slowly in Japanese, looking up from the stroller. He had leaned down enough that the baby had grabbed some of his distinctive silvery hair in his fist.

“ _Asahi_ ,” the woman said, smiling at him.

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful boy,” Victor cooed at the baby, who seemed intent on pulling Victor’s hair out with his minimal strength.

“ _Here you are_ ,” Yuuri said, handing her the napkin. “ _I hope Asahi grows up to be happy and healthy_.”

The woman smiled, taking it. “ _Thank you so much. I’ll be sure to tell him that we met you when he’s older_.”

She took the stroller and started walking away briskly. The baby frowned, still reaching after Victor. “Bababababa,” the baby said.

“He was so cute,” Victor said wistfully, watching them leave.

Yuuri blinked at him. “Do you want kids?”

“Of course,” Victor said, taking Yuuri’s hand and starting to walk around the castle again. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Yuuri repeated, ducking his head. _So, with someone you eventually settle down with, for real. Someone you love._

“You do, too, right? At least that’s what you told Mama,” Victor asked, rubbing Yuuri’s knuckles with his thumb.

Yuuri tried to swallow the lump in his throat, the rising sadness… because he _did_ want children, and he wished that he could have them with Victor. But that would never be.

“Eventually,” he acknowledged.

Victor nodded, smiling a little.

Yuuri sighed, looking down at their joined hands.

 _It’s enough_ , he told himself. _What I have, with him, right now… it’s enough._

Victor squeezed his hand gently, and Yuuri squeezed back.

 

 

* * *

When they got to the beach around midday, it was mostly deserted, and some clouds had started to gather over the sun.

“We can walk on the path over there if you want, but I really like to walk on the sand, if you don’t mind getting a little dirty,” Yuuri said.

Victor nodded, following him out onto the beach. As they started to walk along the water, Yuuri closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of the sea air. The ocean was steel grey in the winter, blending in with the atmosphere on the horizon. It felt strange, after the whirlwind of the prior few weeks, to have a moment of peace, listening to the gulls and the tranquil waves.

Apparently sharing the sentiment, Victor took Yuuri’s hand again, entwining their fingers. Yuuri smiled a little bit to himself. He knew, deep down, that was just one of many conquests—the latest one—but Victor had a talent for making him feel special...making him feel wanted.

As they walked, the sun broke through the clouds again, glinting on the water.

“This is so beautiful,” Victor breathed. “It reminds me of St. Petersburg, actually.”

“Me too.”

“But in some ways it’s completely different. Not nearly as many people, for one thing.”

Victor took out his phone, snapping a few photos of the shoreline, and Yuuri looked out at the waves, chewing his bottom lip.

This was the kind of thing he’d always wanted to do with someone he loved—take him to see his hometown, walk along the beach, meet his family. He’d never thought he’d actually fall for Victor, or that Victor would be here with him. It was better than his wildest dreams, but also bittersweet, because even though they were married, and he could kiss Victor all he wanted, it was still hollow. In some ways, being in love—this kind of love, the deepest love he could have imagined, but knowing it was unrequited—was like dying a slow, slow death.

Yuuri closed his eyes, trying to breathe. In the silence, heard the click of a camera again.

He opened his eyes to see Victor lowering his phone, a smile curling his lips.

Yuuri frowned. “I thought you were taking photos of the ocean,” he muttered.

“I was, but then I realized there was something much more beautiful to take pictures of.”

“God, that’s corny,” Yuuri rolled his eyes.

Victor titled his head. “What is ‘corny’?”

“It means… cliche, I guess? Overly romantic to the point of being cheesy.”

“Cheesy?”

“Forget taking Japanese, we need to get you into a course on American slang instead,” Yuuri joked.

Victor hummed, narrowing his eyes a little. “The Americans need to get a little more creative with their slang. All of it relates to food.”

“Speaking of which, I’m getting hungry,” Yuuri said. “Let’s walk the rest of the way down the beach, there’s a ramen place down there I’ve always loved.”

 

 

* * *

They had a late lunch, then Victor insisted that they go shopping at the local market. Victor bought a lot of presents for Yakov, Yurio, and Inessa—so many, in fact, that they almost couldn’t carry them all. Every once in a while, someone asked Yuuri for an autograph, but for the most part they were left alone, for which Yuuri was grateful.

“It’s almost time to go back to the rink,” Yuuri said, as Victor bought his tenth kimono of the day.

“But I’m having so much fun shopping,” Victor said, pouting.

“C’mon, Vitya." Yuuri fluttered his eyelashes. “I need to practice.”

Victor sighed, the side of his mouth quirking upward. “You know I can’t say no when you look at me with those big chocolate eyes.”

“‘Big chocolate eyes’?” Yuuri laughed.

“Yes. They are huge and brown, and you know how to use them to your advantage,” Victor said, handing his money to the vendor. “Like a puppy.”

“I’m flattered that I have such power over you,” Yuuri said gravely. “And also a little insulted. You just compared me to a dog.”

Victor blinked at him, accepting the bag with his purchase. “Yes, and you have that in common with the only other being on earth who can get me to do whatever he wants me to do: Makkachin.”

Yuuri giggled, and Victor touched his hand. The gesture was so simple, so… normal. It was almost like they were a real couple.

“Let’s go find a cab.” They started walking back through the market toward the exit.

They passed a stall with a bunch of hats on a stand, and Victor paused. “Ooh, I love this,” he said, picking up a bright pink hat that was supposed to resemble a cat, including pointy ears.

Yuuri groaned in frustration. “ _Victor_.”

“Just a minute, I want to try this on.”

Victor pulled the hat on and looked at himself in the mirror.

“You look ridiculous,” Yuuri said, crossing his arms and trying not to laugh, but not quite managing it.

Victor turned a little, cocking his head to the side. “I kind of like it.”

“There they are!” a loud voice cut through the general hubbub of the market. “Nikiforov is the one in the pink hat!”

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Yuuri said under his breath, turning to look in the direction of the voice.

Several paparazzi and journalists were trotting toward them, causing a stir in their wake.

Yuuri pulled the hat off Victor’s head and threw it toward the stand. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, grabbing Victor’s hand and starting to walk briskly toward the exit.

“Katsuki Yuuri! Are you here to visit your family? What are your plans for the rest of the year?” one reporter asked, shoving a microphone in his face.

“We aren’t answering any questions at the moment,” Yuuri said, scowling. “Please leave us alone and respect our privacy.”

“Victor, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be preparing for European Championships? Did you have a falling out with your coach?” a cameraman asked.

“Have you lost your edge because you’re focusing on Yuuri and not on winning?” another woman asked.

Victor looked like he was about to make some kind of retort, so Yuuri started walking more quickly, pulling Victor along with him until they got out to the street.

Thankfully, there was a cab loitering near the market, so Yuuri flagged it down.

Yuuri put his shopping bags inside and slid into the cab, closing his eyes against the onslaught of camera flashes. “Ice Castle, please,” he said to the driver.

Victor got in behind him, and the car lurched forward.

“God, what a nightmare,” Yuuri muttered.

“My likes on Instagram are off the map, that’s how they must have found us,” Victor said, tapping on his phone. “We are also trending on Twitter.”

Yuuri sighed, looking out the window. He should have known that this would happen.

“Are you alright?” Victor touched his shoulder.

Yuuri chewed his bottom lip. “I just…I should have realized that soon everyone would know we are here. I know you’re used to all this, but I’m… not.”

Victor pocketed his phone, moving across the seat into Yuuri’s space and cupping Yuuri’s cheek with one hand. Yuuri’s heart started beating faster, and he felt a little light-headed, the way he always seemed to feel when he was in close proximity to Victor.

“I’m sorry, I should have realized that posting that photo would cause this. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Yuuri shook his head.

“You’ve had a long few weeks, and the paparazzi showing up is not what you wanted today. I should have thought it through.”

“I’ve taken several selfies today with people, it’s really not your fault. I just...wanted to have you only to myself for a while, without the international media descending on us, because I’m selfish. I guess I should have realized that it would be short-lived.”

“I _am_ only yours, for as long as you want me to be,” Victor said softly. “You know that right?”

 _But you’re not,_ Yuuri thought, _you never have been._

“Victor,” he whispered.

Victor smiled, rubbing his thumb against Yuuri’s lip.

“А ты — мой, любимый,”[3] Victor said, moving even closer, and then they were kissing. Yuuri forgot that they were in public, and that such behavior wasn’t really proper in Japan, even in the relative privacy of a moving cab. Not only that, they were famous enough that someone might take a picture of them. Victor’s tongue slid into his mouth and Yuuri’s mind went completely void of all thought other than _want._  

The cab driver cleared his throat. “ _We’re here_ ,” he said gruffly.

Yuuri broke the kiss, feeling his ears burn. He couldn’t bring himself to look the driver in the eyes as he shoved some bills over the seat.

“Thank you,” he said, getting out of the cab. For some reason, he kept throwing caution to the wind when it came to Victor. And he didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

 

 

* * *

“We’re baaack,” Victor said in sing-song as they walked in the doors at Ice Castle.

“I’m assuming you had a good day?” Yuuko asked, eyeing their shopping bags.

“It was wonderful!” Victor beamed. “I love it here.”

“Except for when the paparazzi descended on us,” Yuuri grumbled.

“I thought I saw something about that on my Twitter alerts. I’m actually surprised it took that long. You two don’t exactly blend in.”

Yuuri shrugged. She was probably right. He was just going to have to get used to the fact that anonymity was a thing of the past.

“Despite that, I wish we could stay longer,” Victor said.

“Well I hope you’re staying for a few more days at least, my triplets are so mad that they haven’t been able to see you yet! They’re your biggest fans.”

“Hmmm, maybe we could book the rink for tomorrow morning and they could watch us practice?”

Yuuko bounced on her feet excitedly. “Oh, that would be wonderful! If you could come at ten, then you’d have two full hours before anyone else needs the ice.”

Victor smiled. “Perfect.”

Yuuko took out the keys and handed them to Yuuri. “You remember how to lock up, right?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri grinned. “Thanks again for letting us do this.”

“Anything for the new Japanese national champion,” Yuuko winked as she grabbed her bag. “Have fun!” She walked toward the exit, flicking off the front lights as she left.

As Yuuri and Victor walked out to the rink, the last of the day’s free skaters were leaving, chattering animatedly—some of them staring openly at Victor and Yuuri as they passed. When the doors closed behind them, and the rink was once again cloaked in silence.

Yuuri walked over to the boards, his backpack slung over one shoulder, and looked out at the ice. So much had changed since the last time he had skated there only the evening before; he had changed, too, irrevocably.

Victor appeared at his side, his skates already on. “Ready to get out there?”

Yuuri nodded. “I’ll follow you.”

Victor stepped out onto the ice, and Yuuri sat down on the bench to put on his skates.

Victor started warming up, doing some circuits and working his edges. After a few minutes he started on his ‘Lucky’ routine, and Yuuri paused in the middle of lacing up his skate to watch.

He’d forgotten just how beautiful Victor was on the ice, dancing on his blades, his body all long lines, his hair glinting in the light.

In the whirlwind of the past month, Yuuri hadn’t been able to stop and really watch Victor skate. He’d been too focused on himself, trying to manage his anxiety after the Grand Prix, making sure his routines were just right. But now…he could really _look_.

Victor launched into a quad flip, landing it perfectly, of course, and swept into a graceful step sequence.

 _I love you so much it hurts,_  he thought. _I wish you knew_.

“Get out here, Солнышко!” Victor called out, cutting through his thoughts.

Yuuri finished tying his skates and walked over to the boards. “What does that mean?” he asked as Victor skated past.

“What does what mean?”

“ _Solnyshko_ ,” Yuuri pronounced carefully. “The word you just called me.”

“Hmmmm. I think you need to win another gold medal in order to get another translation.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Well then, I’ll probably never know.”

Victor stopped suddenly and skated over to Yuuri, his face flushed and bright with exertion.

“After all that’s happened, after all I’ve said...and all you’ve done, you still don’t believe in yourself? That you can win?” Victor frowned.

“I, uh…” Yuuri looked away, taking his skate guards off. “I think self-doubt is kind of just…habit at this point.”

Yuuri started to step out onto the ice, but Victor crossed his arms and moved forward a little, blocking him.

“What?” Yuuri grabbed his left elbow with his right hand, hunching his shoulders a little.

Victor chewed his bottom lip, watching him. “It means ‘my sun,’” he said eventually, his voice soft.

Yuuri blinked at him. “What?”

“Солнышко. It means ‘my sun.’”

“It…it does?”

Victor’s lips curled upward slightly. “Yes.”

“I’m…your…” Yuuri couldn’t even finish the sentence; it was too ludicrous.

“Of course you are,” Victor said, sounding exasperated. “You lit up my life when I had been trapped in darkness for far too long.”

Yuuri felt his face flush, something deep in his chest tugging a little. “Now _that_ was corny.”

Victor pressed his finger to his lips, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe, but I think you like it when I say corny things to you.”

Yuuri ducked his head, because Victor was right; he did like it. Victor’s charm, his constant affection, the things he said… it almost felt like Yuuri’s feelings were returned.

“What about your rule?” he asked, trying to deflect. “About having to win before I get a translation.”

“Payment in advance, for when you get another gold.”

“I might be able to podium at Four Continents, but that’s mostly because you won’t be there. I doubt I could beat you at Worlds, even on my best day.”

Victor ran his hand through his hair. “That’s not true at all. You could definitely beat me. I think you’re capable of getting a World Record.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, but Victor turned away, ending the conversation. “Okay, work on your edges for a bit. I’m going to go set up the music so we can use it later.”

Yuuri nodded, glad to escape the intensity of Victor’s gaze, even for a little bit. He went through the motions of his warm ups, and then Victor had him practice some spins.

“Good, that’s looking really good,” Victor said, nodding, as Yuuri spun out of the Charlotte Spiral for the tenth time. “Let’s run through Eros. The whole thing, including jumps.”

“Um, okay.” Yuuri turned and skated to center ice.

Victor moved to the edge and started the music.

As the first notes began, Yuuri flicked his hands down his body, looking over at Victor and biting his lip.

The heat in Victor’s gaze, the pink flush on his nose, made him feel powerful; effervescent, desired.

 _You’re mine_ , Yuuri thought. _I’m the only one who can satisfy you._

 _For now_ , the voice in his head taunted.

Yuuri ignored it, twirling into the beginning of the step sequence, and let everything he had felt in the past day flow into his movements.

_I’m the one you want, I’m the one you need._

He skated how Victor’s lips felt against his skin, the way Victor tasted when he was aroused. The sound of his blades on the ice turned into the moans Victor made as he came. He danced the symphony of their bodies coming together as one.

_I’ll be yours as long as you want me. I’ll bring you to the edge of desire and back again._

He didn’t have to seduce Victor, not now, not again… but he could show Victor what he felt when their bodies were pressed together, skin to skin, though he couldn’t describe it in words.

By the time he did the final spin sequence and twirled into his final pose, Yuuri was more than a little turned on.

Yuuri panted for a couple of seconds, holding his ending pose. He was about to drop his arms and skate over to Victor, but before he could, Victor’s mouth was already on his, Victor’s arms encircling him. For the second time in as many days, Victor was kissing him within an inch of his life at center ice.

“What was that for?” Yuuri said breathlessly, once they broke apart.

“You were thinking about me,” Victor said, resting his forehead against Yuuri’s.

Yuuri blinked up at him. “What?”

“Just now, when you were skating Eros. You were, right?”

Yuuri bit his lip and thought about lying. He’d been doing it this whole time, after all.

But what was the point anymore? Victor knew Yuuri wanted him—physically, at least.

“Of course I was,” Yuuri said slowly. “I have always thought of you when I skate Eros. I thought you knew that.”

For a moment, Victor’s eyes intensified even more, and then he was crushing his mouth against Yuuri’s in a bruising kiss.

“I want you,” Victor said between kisses. “I want you right now.” He started kissing down Yuuri’s jaw, and Yuuri’s eyes fluttered closed.

“We have to finish practice, don’t we?” Yuuri gasped.

“Your coach says it’s okay.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes at the running joke. “Okay, let me lock up and then we’ll—”

“No,” Victor interrupted. “Here.”

Yuuri felt his eyes go wide. “H—how? We can’t, this is a public place—”

“There’s no one else here, and no one will be coming in this late at night. Yuuko turned off the lights, and the front door says the rink is closed,” Victor said. He tilted his head so that his mouth was right next to Yuuri’s ear, his hands sliding around Yuuri’s waist. “I want to push you against the boards and suck you until you come down my throat,” he whispered.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Yuuri groaned, his cock starting to harden.

“I won’t, though, if you’re truly not comfortable with doing it here,” Victor said, looking Yuuri in the eyes. “But I really, really want to make you come right now.”

Yuuri's heart was pounding in his ears, and he was already dizzy. “How can I say no to that?” he said breathlessly.

Victor hummed happily, kissing down Yuuri’s throat and sliding his hand down to palm Yuuri’s cock at the same time. Yuuri was already starting to get painfully hard. Victor’s voice in his ear like that, describing what he wanted to do to him…he was only human, after all.

Victor started stroking him through his sweats, and Yuuri bucked so much that he almost fell backwards on his skates. Victor caught him, holding him upright.

“We better get off the ice before I fall down,” he said, grabbing Victor’s hand and pulling him toward the boards. When they got to the mats at the edge of the ice, Yuuri reached for his skate guards out of habit. Before he could grab them, though, Victor pushed him against the boards, falling to his knees.

Victor leaned forward to nuzzle into Yuuri’s clothed cock. He kissed the shaft through Yuuri’s sweats, his hands moving to hold Yuuri’s hips.

Yuuri wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he grabbed the boards to help hold himself upright.

“You have no idea how many times I have wanted to do this while you were skating that routine,” Victor said, peeling Yuuri’s sweatpants down enough that his cock sprung free.

Yuuri gasped, the cold air contrasting with Victor’s hot breath against his skin.

Victor started stroking Yuuri’s cock with one hand, licking his lips. “How do you like it?” he asked.

Yuuri felt himself flush. “I… I don’t know.” Once again, Yuuri felt a bit of apprehension at his own lack of experience; Victor’s previous lovers must have known a lot more about all of this.

Victor bit his bottom lip. “How am I this lucky,” he said softly.

Before Yuuri could ask him what he meant by that, Victor leaned in and enveloped the head of Yuuri’s cock with his mouth.

Yuuri gasped, throwing his head back as he was engulfed in glorious heat. He’d never had his cock in someone’s mouth before, and this was _Victor’s._

Victor tongued the slit, and Yuuri felt his legs trembling, threatening to give out as Victor started bobbing up and down the shaft, taking more of him in, his eyes dark and ravenous.  

“Oh god, Victor,” Yuuri moaned, his breath coming in short bursts.

Victor started twisting his hand on the downstroke of the shaft, sending shivers down Yuuri’s spine.

“You can hold my hair,” Victor pulled off briefly to say, then bent to his work again.

Yuuri hesitated, but seeing the conviction in Victor’s gaze, he let go of the boards and slid his hand into the silky, silvery strands.

“God, you’re…you’re amazing,” Yuuri gasped.

Victor moaned around his cock, pushing his own sweats down enough that his own cock sprung free, and he started stroking it while he continued to bob.

Victor licked down the shaft and then took him in deep again, and Yuuri bucked into Victor’s mouth a little. “Oh god, sorry, I—“ he began to say.

But Victor just nodded his head, and then held it still.

At first Yuuri didn’t understand what Victor was saying, but then he realized: Victor wanted him to thrust into his mouth.

“Are…you sure?” Yuuri whispered, feeling hot all over. The hand that was tangled in Victor’s hair was trembling.

Victor nodded again.

“Okay, just…tell me to stop if you need to.” Yuuri bit his bottom lip and tried to control his movements, thrusting his hips slowly, his cock sliding into Victor’s mouth.

Apparently, Victor didn’t have a gag reflex—or he’d mastered it—because Yuuri’s cock started hitting the back of his throat, but he didn’t choke.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Yuuri panted, thrusting a little harder into Victor’s mouth. He never would have thought to do this, but Victor seemed to be more turned on by it; he was stroking himself faster and moaning, his eyes fluttering closed.

Yuuri wanted to close his eyes too, but the sight of his cock sliding into Victor’s mouth, the bliss on his face, was too amazing not to watch.

He kept thrusting, a little quicker, and Victor moaned around his cock again.

“Vic—Victor—I, I’m going to—“ Yuuri gasped, feeling himself getting close.

Victor opened his eyes again, sucking a little harder on Yuuri’s cock, and Yuuri saw stars as he came, his come spurting down Victor’s throat.

Victor gasped, stroking himself faster until he came onto his sweatpants.

“Oh goooood,” Yuuri groaned, feeling boneless. He slid down to the floor.

“Shit, that was good,” Victor said, his accent a little thicker than usual. He wiped a little come from the side of his mouth. The sight of him—his hair a mess, pink lips and nose—was almost enough to make Yuuri hard again.

Victor moved over to sit next to Yuuri, turning his face so he could kiss him deeply, but sweetly. He leaned back and looked at Yuuri, smiling.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Yuuri said, still a little breathless. “In _here_. Someone could have come in, we could have been papped…”

Victor bit his lip. “I really liked it. I almost came just from feeling you take control like that, taking your pleasure from me.”

A little shiver rippled down Yuuri’s spine. “Is it…something you’ve done before?”

Something flickered behind Victor’s eyes, but then he shook his head a little and it was gone. “Once or twice. But I liked it more with you.”

Yuuri was about to ask what he was talking about, but something about Victor’s expression held him back.

Victor sighed. “We should probably get up and go back to the onsen.”

Yuuri eyed Victor’s ruined pants. “You can’t go out in public like that.”

“I have an extra set of sweats in my gear bag, I’ll just change before we go.”

Victor stood up gingerly, tucking himself back into his pants before helping Yuuri up too. “And we were wearing our skates the whole time.”

Yuuri looked down at their feet. “That probably wasn’t smart. What if I had slipped and my blades had hit you?”

Victor nodded sagely. “You’re right, next time I give you a blow job next to the ice, I’ll make sure you put your skate guards on first.”

Yuuri giggled. “You’re ridiculous.”

Victor tilted his head to the side. “Maybe,” he acquiesced. “But just like the corniness, I think you like it.”

Yuuri didn’t have a witty retort for that one, because once again, Victor was right.

 

 

* * *

Once they had cleaned up enough to be respectable, they picked up their many shopping bags and Yuuri turned off the overhead rink lights.

“I’m surprised there aren’t paparazzi out here yet,” Victor noted, shivering a little as they stepped out into the night air.

Yuuri locked the door behind them. “Yeah, that’s odd. Maybe they haven’t figured out that this is where I practice…”

“Should we walk home?”

“Let’s take a cab. Too many bags,” Yuuri cocked his eyebrow at Victor.

Victor laughed, holding up his laden arms. “True.”

Sure enough, when their cab turned onto the road where Yu-topia was located, there were paparazzi camped out everywhere.

“Speak of the devil,” Yuuri muttered.

“ _I can’t get any further, they’re all in the road. What are they here for_?” The cab driver scowled.

“ _Us, unfortunately,_ ” Yuuri said. He gathered up his shopping bags, his gear bag already on his shoulder.

“Ready?” he asked Victor.

Victor nodded and opened the door, shouldering through the shouting reporters. Yuuri followed, ducking his head against the onslaught.

When they reached the doors of the onsen, Mari was waiting for them, arms crossed. “All right, all right, you got your pictures, now leave them in peace. I’ll remind you all that this establishment is only for paying customers.”

She glared at all of the paparazzi, who were continuing to take photos, and closed the door behind them.

The few patrons who were still in the dining area were all looking at them curiously. If they hadn’t already known that Victor and Yuuri were famous, they certainly did now.

“How long have they been outside?” Yuuri asked.

“Several hours,” Mari said. “A few of them tried to get a room here for the night, but I told them we are already fully booked.”

“Thanks Mari. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“Don’t worry about it. It's crazy that there are so many of them. I guess I knew you were famous now, but...”

“It’s definitely gotten a lot worse since we got married…and since I won nationals.”

Mari shook her head. “I can’t believe they won’t even leave you alone for a couple of days. It’s ridiculous. Anyway, I’ve got to go finish cleaning the hot spring, I’ll see you later. Mom’s serving tonight.” She threw a towel over her shoulder and rolled up her sleeves, walking in the direction of the backyard.

“ _Hello! Did you have a good day_?” Hiroko asked, walking up with a tray of tea.

“She asked if we had a nice day,” Yuuri explained to Victor.

“ _Yes, thank you_ ,” Victor said in Japanese.

Hiroko beamed at him. _“After you eat, you should soak in the hot spring. We just cleared it out because Mari had to clean, so you should have the place to yourselves_.”

“ _Perfect, thanks Mom,_ ” Yuuri said, then translated for Victor.

Victor smiled, and made an attempt at a bow. “ _Thank you_ ,” he said.

“ _Here’s some tea, I’ll come back with your food_ ,” Hiroko said, setting down the tray on an empty table.

“We need to work on your bow,” Yuuri teased.

“What’s wrong with my bow?” Victor sat down at the table.

Yuuri sat next to him and picked up the teapot, pouring them both some tea. “Pretty much everything.”

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Victor said, winking.

“You’re just lucky I guess.”

Victor stuck out his tongue, picking up his teacup and smiling as he took a sip.

 

 

* * *

After dinner, they went to the changing room and put on robes before walking out to the hot spring. As his mother had promised, it was empty.

“Let’s go to the far back,” Yuuri said quietly, taking Victor’s hand and leading the way.

He loved the hot spring in the late evening; the steam rising up in tendrils in the darkness, the sound of the fountain cutting through the silence. The moonlight glinted on the water and reflected on the wet stone underfoot. Their footsteps barely made a sound as they walked over the well-worn stone paths to the spring at the far back.

Yuuri let Victor’s hand go and took off his robe, hanging it on a tree branch. Victor did the same, and they both stepped down into the hot pool.

“Ahhh,” Victor said, sinking into the water. “That feels so good.”

“It really does.” Yuuri rested his head against the lip of the pool, closing his eyes and just enjoying the warmth.

After a few minutes of silence, Victor brushed his fingers against Yuuri’s arm. “Thank you for bringing me here,” he said.

Yuuri opened his eyes and turned to look at Victor. The moonlight made his face and hair look almost luminescent, his eyes appearing darker than usual in contrast. He was like an ethereal being from another world.

“I wanted you to meet my family.” Once he said it, Yuuri realized how pathetic it must sound.

But Victor just smiled, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. He moved closer, sliding his fingers under Yuuri’s chin and tilting it upward.

“I loved meeting them,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss him gently.

Yuuri felt lightheaded, and he knew it wasn’t just the heat of the spring; Victor’s words, his touches, were intoxicating. He didn’t act like this was a temporary fling, and that made it so much harder.

Victor leaned back, but stayed close to Yuuri, brushing his fingers down Yuuri’s thigh. “What should we do tomorrow? Other than practice in the morning.”

“Hmmm. When are we going back to St. Petersburg?” Yuuri asked. They hadn’t really talked about it, because it hadn’t been completely clear whether their arrangement was going to continue past Japanese nationals. Now that they were—well—whatever they were, he couldn’t imagine separating from Victor anytime soon.

“I have been meaning to talk to you about that. I know we were planning on staying here for a few more days, but…” Victor’s lips twitched, and he swirled his hands in the water a bit.

Yuuri’s heart sank, his anxiety starting to pound in his ears. Was he about to tell Yuuri that he was lousy in bed, and that it had been a bit of fun but he had to go back to his life now, and that Yuuri should go back to Detroit?

“What is it?” Yuuri managed to choke out.

“I’m sorry, I…I should have brought this up sooner.”

“Just tell me,” Yuuri said, a bit more forcefully than he meant to.

“Okay.” Victor cleared his throat. “New Year’s Eve is a big deal in Russia, it’s basically what Christmas is elsewhere…and I usually spend it in Moscow with Mama and Papa. Inessa invited us to come, and I told her we couldn’t go because we were going to be here, and…I didn’t think you’d want to, since you rarely see your family. And if you don’t want to, if you want to stay here longer, that’s fine. I just wanted you to meet Papa and then I felt selfish about it, because you never get to see your family, and I know I miss Inessa and I see her several times a year. I just thought it would be fun, and I know it’s getting really close to New Year’s and I should have asked before. So if you don’t want to go to Moscow we don’t have to,” he finished in a rush.

Yuuri blinked at him.

“Say something,” Victor said, looking down at the water.

“You want me…to go to Moscow with you.”

Victor swallowed. “Yes.”

“For a New Year’s Eve party with your family.”

“Yes. Well, it’s really more of a ball, to be honest. I’ll have to get Nadiya to send some tuxes for us…”

“You were worried I would be angry because you want to take me to Moscow for a _ball_?”

Victor looked sheepish. “Er. Yes?”

Yuuri burst into laughter, covering his face with both hands. His anxiety had convinced him that Victor wanted to leave him—and Victor just wanted him to meet his father. He was really going to have a heart attack one of these days.

“Yuuri,” Victor moved closer. “Are you angry with me?”

“No, no, I’m not angry,” Yuuri dropped his hands into the water with a splash. “I thought…” he shook his head. “Never mind what I thought.”

“So do you want to go?”

Yuuri paused, running his hand through his wet hair. “When would we leave?”

“We would probably have to leave tomorrow night, fly through the night. We’d gain time going back there.”

Yuuri chewed his lip. He had wanted to stay with his family a little while longer, but maybe…if he got the sponsorship money from Nike, he’d be able to fly back to see them more often. Or, even…

“Maybe we could fly my parents out to see us at Worlds? It’s in Japan this year, after all. Then I wouldn’t feel as bad about leaving early.”

“That’s a marvelous idea!” Victor grinned. “Maybe I can get Inessa to come, then she can meet them too.”

“Uh, okay. Sure.” Yuuri bit his bottom lip. Their parents meeting each other felt like one more entanglement, one more thing Yuuri would have to explain when Victor left him. But he didn’t feel like he could refuse.

“Perfect. So we can go then?”

Yuuri nodded. “Yes. Let’s go. It sounds fun.”

Victor grinned, cupping Yuuri’s face with both hands and kissing him again. Yuuri sighed, leaning into it, and Victor nipped Yuuri’s bottom lip, sliding his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth.

He swung his leg over so that one knee was on each side of Yuuri’s lap.

“This okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” Yuuri nodded.

Victor dipped down to kiss him deeply again, humming against his lips, sliding his hands back into Yuuri’s hair and tugging a little. Yuuri was already starting to get a little hard, which was so, so dangerous—especially since Victor was basically grinding against his lap. They were cocooned in the darkness of the pool, but there were several dozen members of the international paparazzi just beyond the wall.

Yuuri slid his hands around Victor’s waist, holding him in place but also trying to anchor himself. It felt like he was falling headfirst into an abyss, and smiling on the way down.

“I could do this for hours,” Victor murmured, kissing down Yuuri’s throat.

“Don’t get too carried away,” Yuuri whispered. “I think I’ve already reached my limit of exhibitionism for the day.”

Victor laughed softly, leaning his forehead against Yuuri’s and exhaling deeply. “I’m sorry. I just want you so much, all the time. I’m like a teenager with you.”

Yuuri closed his eyes, basking in the contact. “Me too. I want you so much I…I ache with it.”

Victor chuckled. “Now who is being corny,” he said, but there was no sharp edge to it.

Yuuri pressed his lips together in admission. It was the first time he’d said something like that to Victor. They sat there for a moment, breathing each other’s air.  

He wanted to say more. He wanted more, he wanted everything.

_Why isn’t it enough? Why can’t I just enjoy having this, but no more?_

“You make me so happy, Солнышко,” Victor whispered.

He leaned in to kiss Yuuri again, and Yuuri kissed back, swallowing down the three words he could never, ever say out loud.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> [1] милый = “My darling”  
> [2] Солнышко = “My sun”  
> [3] А ты — мой, любимый = “And you’re mine, my love.”
> 
> Notes: 
> 
> Sooooo a lot of sex in one chapter, eh? I just figured after all the sexual tension of the past several chapters that they’d probably be at it like rabbits for a while. If anyone is wondering, there’s plenty more to come (Pun intended!).
> 
> I know some people might think “god, Yuuri overreacts to EVERYTHING,” (case in point, when Victor said “I need to tell you something” and Yuuri immediately thinks “he’s leaving me”) but as I have done for the whole fic so far, I wanted to do justice to Yuuri’s anxiety disorder. Those kinds of conversations (and overreactions) happen to me all the time with my own partner. Even though I know she loves me and that it’s never going to be something truly bad when she says “I need to talk to you about something,” my clinical anxiety automatically goes to the worst case scenario. So I don’t think it’s unrealistic to think that he would be the same.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and don’t forget to drop by on tumblr (victuuriplease.tumblr.com) and follow for updates and other ESBS extras!


	11. Ikigai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their last day in Hasetsu, Victor and Yuuri practice in front of some local children and then get some important news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter, “ikigai,” is a Japanese concept meaning “the reason for being.” In Japanese culture, everyone has an ikigai, and finding it requires a deep and lengthy search of self, but finding one’s ikigai brings meaning to one’s life.
> 
> longhornletters is a rainbow-infused space unicorn, scullyseviltwin is a poetic and noble land mermaid (and smut expert) and rogovich is a beautiful rule-breaking moth.

 

They kissed for a long time, and Yuuri wanted to stay in the bubble of dark water and heat forever, but they had early practice in the morning. 

“We should probably get out soon,” Yuuri said in between kisses. “My fingers and toes are starting to get all wrinkly.” 

“Mmmm, don’t want to stop.” Victor left featherlight kisses down his neck to his collarbone.

Yuuri closed his eyes, arching into the caresses. “How about we take a shower and kiss in bed? Where it’s dry?” 

Victor sighed, kissing Yuuri once more before swinging off his lap. “I guess that’s reasonable.”

He pulled himself out of the pool, walking over to the branches where theirrobes and towels were hanging. Yuuri paused before following him, watching the beads of water run down his torso to his ass and legs. He bit his bottom lip. 

Victor looked over his shoulder, one of his eyes mostly covered by his hair.

“Like what you see?” he said, fluttering his eyelashes coquettishly.

Yuuri felt his face flush a little. “I’m sorry, it’s just… _right there_.”

“What is?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Yuuri pulled himself out of the water and grabbed a towel.

Victor just raised his eyebrows. 

Yuuri sighed in exasperation. “Your…you know. It was just right in my line of sight.” He pulled on his robe.

“Katsuki Yuuri,” Victor purred, moving into Yuuri’s space and stroking a finger down his wet chest. “Are you telling me that you like my butt?

Yuuri winced. “It’s not only me. There are whole websites on the internet devoted to it, you know. You were voted ‘best ass in the world’ in a poll the last three years in a row.”

“Hmm,” Victor hummed. “I think you’re trying to change the subject.”

“Are you not going to get dressed?”

“Definitely trying to change the subject.” 

Yuuri avoided his gaze as he tied his robe at the waist. “Am not.” 

“Well, for the record,” Victor went on, “I think _yours_ is glorious.” 

“My… what?” 

“Your ass. It is glo-ri-ous,” Victor declared. “But your thighs are my favorite by far. They’re so strong, powerful, but beautiful. I wish they could be wrapped around me all the time, always.” Victor smiled slyly, and Yuuri blushed. Victor hadn’t ever complimented specific body parts of his before. 

Victor squinted at him. “Are you embarrassed?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips. 

“Um. Yeah, a little.” 

“You don’t realize how attractive you are?”

“I’m saying I know I’m not,” Yuuri said bluntly.

Victor’s jaw dropped. “Yuuri...” he began.

“I still don’t know how you’re…” _interested in me at all, even for sex_ , he didn’t say. “I mean, look at you.” He gestured, indicating Victor’s body.

“I don’t—”

“I’m not fishing for compliments,” Yuuri interrupted. “I have a tendency to get fat in the off-season, it’s in my genes. I have a round, forgettable face. I’m just… mediocre.” 

Victor’s jaw tightened. “Yuuri—”

“Can we just drop it and go inside?” Yuuri held out Victor’s robe. 

Victor sighed, taking the robe and putting it on. “I’m going to start a poll online asking how many people think you’re hot, so you know that it’s objectively true.” 

Yuuri shook his head, starting back toward the house. “That’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.”

Victor put his finger to his lips. “Hmmm. And maybe a special subsection on your thighs. ‘Are Katsuki Yuuri’s thighs spectacular beyond belief, and could crush the gods to dust?’ Check yes, or yes.”

“I thought you were going to drop it.” 

“I never agreed to that.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, opening the locker room door for Victor.

Hiroko was walking down the hallway, carrying dirty dishes back toward the kitchen. “ _Did you have a good bath_?” she asked. 

“ _It was really relaxing_ ,” Yuuri said, yawning. “ _We are just going to head up to bed. Night, mom_.”

“ _Good night, dear_ ,” she smiled and hefted the dishes more securely into her arms as she walked into the kitchen.

“Want to shower?” Victor asked as they walked down the hallway into Yuuri’s room. 

“You go ahead, I need to text Phichit back. I’ve been ignoring him all day, and I’m sure he’s not happy.” 

“You should never avoid your best friend. He is probably trying to talk to you about something important.”

Yuuri sighed. _More than you know._ “Yeah. You go shower, I’ll text him.” 

Victor nodded, walking into the ensuite bathroom. As the shower turned on, Yuuri picked up his phone and turned it back on. A flood of text alerts from Phichit immediately popped up. 

_Did you go skate? (12:15 pm)_

_What ended up happening with Victor? (12:30 pm)_  

 _Okay so something must have happened._  
_You never take this long to text me back (6:50 am)_

_Yuuuuuri (10:15 am)_

_I want to know what happened (10:23 am)_

_Dammit Yuuri answer me_  
_I just woke up and you guys are all over_  
_Twitter. Again. (10:32 pm)_  

 _Oh my god, the way you are looking at him_  
_In this pic (link) (11:01 pm)_  

_ARE THOSE HICKEYS?????? (11:02 pm)_

_Do you have something to tell me? (11:05 pm)_  

Yuuri winced. He didn’t want to respond, but he knew he should.

 _Im sorry, I should have texted you earlier_  
_My phone was off_  
_Also, I didn’t know how to tell you this. (11:35 pm)_

_?????? (11:36 pm)_

Yuuri inhaled deeply and exhaled in a long, slow breath. He might as well just rip off the band-aid.

_We had sex._

The little text bubble came up once, showing that Phichit was texting back, then it disappeared again. There was a pause, then the bubble showed up again. 

_Tell me everything. Immediately._

Yuuri glanced over at the bathroom, where the shower water was still running, and Victor was humming a song.

 _Remember how I heard someone walking in_  
_the onsen when I was talking to you?_

_Obvi_

_It must have been him._  

_Oh shiiiiiiit!!!_

_Yeah. He must have heard me._  
_He showed up while I was skating and_  
_kissed me. And then he told me that_  
_it wasn’t for press, was only for me._

 _OH MY GOD_  
_WHY DIDNT YOU LEAD WITH THAT_

 _I know, I know_  

_THEN WHAT HAPPENED_

_Then we went back to my room and...you know_

_Oh my god my heart is going to give out_  
_Was it good?_

_It was fucking amazing._

_YAAAAAAAS QUEEEEEN_  
_Im doing a fist pump right now_  
_I hope you are aware_  
_But three times? Damn son_  

 _Well we did it again this morning, and_  
_this afternoon…well you get the idea._  

 _Oh my fucking god I can’t believe this_  
_I need to show you how to cover up those_  
_hickeys with performance makeup btw_  
_Wait_  
_Did he tell you he’s in love with you too_  
_Please tell me he did_  

_No…_

_Wait. WHAT_

_I think he just wants to have sex with me_  
_for now, since it’s convenient for both of us_  
_which is fine._  

 _Did he…say that?_  

 _No, but he didn’t say he wanted this_  
_to be long term or anything, you know?_  
_He obviously wants me for now but he’s_  
_had so many boyfriends… he’ll get bored_  
_with me eventually and move on_  

There was a longer pause than usual before Phichit’s next text popped up, and then there was a flood of texts all in a row. 

 _Let me get this straight._  
_He overheard you talking to me about_  
_how you were in love with him._

 _He came to the rink a little while later, kissed you,_  
_and told you that it was “only for you”_  
_like some romantic hero type shit_

_Then you had sex THREE TIMES_

_and he has not said anything about this being_  
_temporary, you just assume that it is_  

 _And then you were out all day with him being_  
_cute and coupley to the point where I’m_  
_getting a toothache_  

 _Well. Yes._  

 _And you haven’t told him to his face that you_  
_are madly in love with him and want to get_  
_married and have lots of sex and babies_

 _We are already married_  
_...also we cant physically have babies_

 _IT’S A LINE FROM A MOVIE YUURI_  
_ANSWER THE QUESTION_

_No I have not told him to his face_

_Yuuri I say this with all due friendship_  
_I’m going to smack you_

 _What_  
_Why_

 _What if he feels the same way and he_  
_just hasn’t said it yet_

 _I feel like he would have told me if he loved me_  

 _You haven’t told him!!!!!_  

_It’s different, he already knows I do_

_Do you know for sure?_

_I guess I don’t._

_Yuuri. You have to tell him._

_I don’t want to make things more complicated_

_But what if he loves you too?_  

Yuuri stared at that last text for a while, then put the heels of his palms to his eyes, pressing hard into the sockets. _I can’t hope for that,_ he thought. _I can’t. It’s too dangerous_.

“How’s Phichit?” 

Yuuri dropped his hands. Victor was smiling at him as he dried his hair with a towel, another one slung around his hips. 

Yuuri threw his phone under the pillow. “He’s… fine. Having trouble landing his quad lutz.” 

“Don’t stop texting on my account,” Victor said, starting to climb into bed. 

Yuuri grabbed his wrist. “I think we had plans to make out, didn’t we?”

Victor pressed his lips together, looking amused. “Are you sure?”

Yuuri pulled Victor toward him and pressed his lips to the inside of Victor’s wrist. Victor’s breathing stuttered, and Yuuri looked up at him through his eyelashes.

“C’mere,” he said softly. 

Yuuri pulled him down onto the bed by the shoulders, flipping their positions so that Yuuri was on top. Victor sighed, rolling his hips against Yuuri’s, making Yuuri shudder. “ _Just_ make out?”

Yuuri bit his lip. “Hmmm, I could be convinced to do more than that.” 

Victor chuckled. “You’re insatiable.”

“Look who’s talking,” Yuuri retorted.

He leaned down to kiss the smile off Victor’s lips, grinding their hips together…and ignoring the continued buzzing of his phone.

 

* * *

As the morning sunlight woke Yuuri up, and he automatically turned over and reached toward Victor—but instead of touching a warm body, his hand met only air.

Yuuri frowned, squinting at the empty space in his bed, a strange feeling settling in his stomach. He’d gotten used to feeling Victor’s warmth beside him as he came to consciousness, and waking up alone felt…wrong.

 _Eventually you won’t have him in your bed at all_ , the snarky voice in his head reminded him. _Better get used to it._  

Yuuri gulped, trying to quell the despair rising in his throat, and pulled a pillow over his head.

A couple of minutes later, he heard his bedroom door open and close. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Victor’s voice said in sing-song.

Yuuri paused for a moment before lifting the pillow off his head. 

Victor was standing next to the bed, holding a tray of food and tea. He was wearing his own pyjama pants and one of Yuuri’s t-shirts, which was too small for him, so there was a little strip of skin showing over his sweatpants. The sight of it caused Yuuri’s chest to tighten a little. 

“What is that?” Yuuri croaked.

“Breakfast in bed!” Victor set the tray down on the bedside table. He smiled, cupping Yuuri’s face with both hands and kissing him gently. He tasted like toothpaste and green tea.

Yuuri covered Victor’s hands with his own and kissed him back, wishing he could say what he was really thinking.

 _Please don’t leave me. Please stay with me. It will break me when you leave me._  

“Did you sleep well?” Victor asked, brushing the hair out of Yuuri’s eyes.

“You weren’t here when I woke up.” Yuuri winced, regretting the words instantly. 

Victor blinked at him. “I just went to get you breakfast.”

“I know, it’s… it’s fine. I didn’t mean to—” Yuuri stuttered. Victor was still watching him with confusion, so Yuuri cleared his throat.

“I… just don’t like it when you’re not here when I wake up,” he said slowly.

Victor’s eyes softened. “I was trying to get back before you woke up,” he said, stroking along Yuuri’s jaw. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.” 

Yuuri shook his head. “It’s silly. I know you hadn’t actually _left._ I just…” 

“You were expecting me to be here.”

Yuuri nodded, feeling even more pathetic than before. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so…codependent and weird.” 

Victor cocked his head. “I don’t know what ‘codependent’ means, but I love waking up next to you in the morning,” he said, tracing Yuuri’s jaw with his thumb. “And I love going to bed with you at night.”

It was the closest Victor had ever come to saying “I love you,” which for some reason made the tight feeling in Yuuri’s throat even worse. 

“Me too,” he whispered.

Victor kissed him again, then moved the tray onto Yuuri’s lap. “Eat. We have to get to practice!” 

He bounced into the bathroom, and Yuuri looked down at the tray and sighed. 

Victor just kept doing things like this—getting him breakfast in bed, telling him that he loved sleeping next to him—as if they were something they weren’t. 

Phichit’s text floated through his mind. _But what if he loves you too?_  

 _Stop it_ , he thought. _It’s not like that. Not for him._

Yuuri closed his eyes for a moment, trying to breathe deeply, as shower turned on.

 

 

* * *

When they arrived at Ice Castle, Yuuko met them at the doors.

“Good morning!” Victor said, grinning. “How are you today?”

“Great,” Yuuko said, her eyes a bit too bright. “It’s going to be amazing to watch you two skate. Axel, Lutz and Loop could barely sleep, they were so excited.”

She led them toward the doors of the rink, wringing her hands as they walked. 

Yuuri raised his eyebrows at her. “Everything okay, Yuuko?” 

Yuuko stopped right in front of the doors, turning around to face them, looking sheepish. “Okay… so. I’m really sorry about this but...my triplets…they couldn’t keep their mouths shut. They told some of their friends you would be practicing this morning. There’s a few more people out there than you were originally planning on.”

“It’s not a problem at all.” Victor waved his hand dismissively. “We are happy to let some other young skaters learn from watching us. Right, Yuuri?” 

Yuuri felt his jaw tighten, his anxiety ramping up a little. There was a reason he didn’t like practicing in front of people he didn’t know; it caused him to overthink things, to make more mistakes, and to get more frustrated. 

“I’ll be fine,” he lied.

Yuuko gave him an apologetic smile, then turned around and opened the doors.

There was a gathering of about thirty children from the ages of five to twelve years old, and several adults—obviously parents—by the boards. As Yuuri and Victor walked in, everyone started chattering excitedly, a couple of the smaller children craning their heads to get a better look.

“A _few_ friends,” Yuuri grumbled, following Victor over to the crowd.

“ _Hello!_ ” Victor said in Japanese. “ _How are you_?”

The children giggled, and several of them, including the triplets, immediately took out their phones and started taking pictures. 

Yuuri sighed, standing slightly behind Victor, adjusting his glasses. Victor had always been really good at this part, but Yuuri felt wrong-footed and awkward being the center of attention. He really just wanted to practice, but this was part of his role now; he was an internationally renowned figure skater with an even more renowned ‘husband.’ 

“Can you translate for me?” Victor asked Yuuri in English, and Yuuri nodded. 

“I’m so glad to see all of you here,” Victor said. “Yuuri and I are so glad to see this many young people excited about skating. We are going to warm up first, and then I’m going to coach Yuuri for a bit. If you don’t mind, we’d like to do that part without any photos just so he can concentrate. Sometimes it can be a bit distracting for flashes to go off when you’re about to jump, I’m sure you all understand.” 

Yuuri translated, and the children nodded raptly, their eyes round. 

“Once we are done, though, we don’t taking some pictures, and if some of you brought your skates, we can teach you a few things on the ice. How does that sound?”

The children cheered, one or two of them actually jumping in excitement. Victor beamed, clapping his hands together.

“Wonderful. Yuuri and I are going to put on our skates now, and head out on the ice!”

As Yuuri and Victor made their way over to the benches by the boards, the children immediately started chattering again.

“How do you do that?” Yuuri asked, sitting down on the bench. 

“Do what?”

He pulled his skates out of his gear bag. “You make everyone love you immediately. And get them to do exactly what you want, but you also give them what _they_ want. You’re like…a PR god or something.”

Victor laughed lightly, sitting down next to Yuuri and taking out his own skates. “Nadiya is the PR god, not me.”

“She’s not here, though,” Yuuri pointed out. 

Victor shrugged. “I guess I learned how to do it over many years of constantly being in the public eye. But you seem to be doing very well from all the times I have seen you with fans.”

Yuuri started to pull his left skate onto his foot. “It just seems to come so naturally to you. I don’t like talking to strangers…it makes me nervous. So sometimes I come across as…I don’t know, rude. Or impatient. I didn’t really want to practice in front of all these people, let alone teach them skating afterward.” 

Victor chewed his bottom lip musingly. “I love being around people, making them happy. And I’d never turn away little children who want to be inspired by seeing what we do. I mean, we were little once, too, no? We looked up to other skaters back then.” He bent to tighten his skate. 

Yuuri paused, his mind flashing back to when he’d first seen Victor skate on television. He’d looked up to Victor for his entire career after that day—and it had just been watching him on television, not in person. 

Victor went on, oblivious to Yuuri’s reverie. “Back in St. Petersburg, I volunteer at a rink in a less privileged area of the city, teaching kids how to skate. The past couple of years were a little rough for me, and their enthusiasm made me feel…” he trailed off. “It’s giving back, in a way, you know?”  

 _Rough? What was rough about being at the top of the world?_ Yuuri wanted to ask. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything about that in the press,” he said instead.

Victor shrugged again, pulling on his other skate. “I don’t do it for the press, I do it because I want to. There’s something truly magical about a child’s eyes as they first learn how to glide on the ice. It’s just pure joy.”

Victor looked up at him, his hair falling over one eye, smiling, but for some reason his gaze was tinged with sadness. 

Yuuri automatically reached out to brush the hair out of his eyes, his fingers lingering a little on Victor’s skin. He felt himself flush in embarrassment, knowing everyone in the rink was watching their every move.

Dropping his hand, Yuuri leaned down to finish tying his skates.

Teaching underprivileged children how to skate in his free time seemed completely at odds with Victor’s public persona—the glittering ice god who danced with one partner before throwing them aside for another, over and over again.

Which Victor was the real one?

“Let’s get out there,” Victor said, putting a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and squeezing it a little. Yuuri nodded, finishing his last knot and picking up his skating gloves.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri and Victor warmed up under dozens of watchful eyes. It was difficult for Yuuri to fully relax under their gazes even though he performed in front of crowds all the time.

“Okay, let’s start,” Victor called out eventually, waving him to center ice. “I want to work on your quad flip. The landing leg was sloppy when you did it the other day. I bet we can make it perfect if we work on it together.” 

“But…” _I don’t have it down well enough to do it in front of people yet,_ he wanted to say, but he knew Victor would see right through that excuse. He’d nearly landed the jump at Nationals, after all. But he hadn’t exactly planned on adding it to his program permanently.

“Okay,” he acquiesced.

“Let’s see it.” 

Yuuri gulped, shaking out his arms as he skated away. He moved around the rink, gathering speed, and launched into the quad flip. As soon as his blade left the ice, he knew that he didn’t have enough speed for four rotations. Once he came down, the landing was even worse than the one he’d made in competition; he fell onto both his hands and his ankle twisted underneath him.

The crowd gasped collectively, and Yuuri felt his face burning.

Victor skated over to him immediately, helping him up. “Yuuri, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Yuuri winced a little as he rubbed his ankle. 

“That looked like it hurt. Do you want to take a minute?” 

Yuuri flexed his foot. “No, it’s okay. I want to try again.”

Victor watched him for a moment, then let him go. “Okay. Do you know what you did incorrectly?”

“I didn’t have enough speed to get through the rotations.” 

“Right.” Victor nodded. “Make sure you don’t balk before going into the jump. You need as much speed as you can get.”

Yuuri brushed off his sweatpants and tried putting more weight on the foot. It only hurt a little bit, so he skated around, making one big circuit before he launched up into the jump again. 

This time, he had enough speed and height to get through all the rotations, but he was slightly off-kilter. He landed on the wrong edge, and he had to touch one hand down in order to stay upright.

“Don’t launch until you’re sure your edge is at the right angle,” Victor called out. 

Yuuri nodded, gritting his teeth. He was determined to get it right. 

Victor made him do the jump again, and again, and again, but each time something wasn’t quite right and he either touched down or popped it.

“Let’s work on your step sequence,” Victor said, frowning. “I don’t think we are going to get it today.”

“One more,” Yuuri said, gritting his teeth. “I almost had it that time.” Before Victor could reply, he turned his back and started skating around, gaining speed. 

This time, the second he launched into the jump, he knew that it was perfect. He sailed through the air, landing perfectly on the correct edge, and the second he spread his arms on the landing, the crowd of children cheered.

“Great job.” Victor clapped, a soft smile curling his lips upward. “I knew you would get it.”

Yuuri ducked his head, feeling pleased. “Now I just need to land it more times in a row.” 

“I think that’s enough for today, you don’t want to injure yourself by overdoing it. Now let’s run through your free skate.” He moved closer to Yuuri, his voice low so that only Yuuri could hear. “Make it so beautiful they can’t take their eyes off you. Show off a bit. Inspire them.”

Yuuri glanced over at the children, who were still watching them raptly. Victor skated over to the edge and put “Rise” in the CD player.

_Inspire them._

He thought about Minami, looking up at him with wonder in his eyes at Nationals; of himself, as a small boy, watching Victor skate on TV. He thought of Victor spending hours of his precious little free time to inspire young skaters, helping toddlers across the ice on shaky legs. 

Yuuri stared up at the banner proclaiming that this was his home rink, and felt a wave of guilt. He had hidden behind his anxiety for so long, but his own selfishness and ambition had been holding him back, too. This wasn’t just about him, not anymore.

Now, three dozen children were watching his every move, waiting for him—just him—to skate. He was like them once, dreaming of another life beyond the crumbling walls and closed shops of Hasetsu. They knew he had grown up here, and that he’d reached the highest heights of the skating world…he’d made his dreams come true. 

 _I’m the Japanese national champion. It’s time to start acting like it._  

Yuuri closed his eyes, settling into his starting pose. As the music began, he unfurled his body. Normally during a competition, he would let the audience melt into the background, concentrating only on himself, but this time, he let himself feel their gazes like a physical presence.

 _I’m doing this for myself, but I’m doing it for all of you, too._  

He heard their gasps when he did his first quad, their small shrieks of delight when he did a delicate step sequence or spin.

At one point, he skated past Victor, who was watching him with a bright smile, and Yuuri smiled back.

When he landed his last jump and ended in his final pose, the crowd burst into cheers. Dropping his arms, Yuuri panted, waving a little at them. 

“Good, really good.” Victor grinned. “Are you okay to do more?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Your stamina really is something to admire,” Victor said softly, winking. Yuuri felt himself flush.

“Go through the beginning sequence again. Don’t forget to pull your leg as high as you can go on the charlotte spiral.”

The sun was slanting through the windows before Victor finally said, “Okay, I think that’s good for today. Tell them that it’s their turn on the ice.”

Yuuri wiped the sweat from his forehead. “ _Who wants to get out here and skate?”_ he asked the children in Japanese. 

The children all shouted over each other. 

Yuuri smiled and put on his skate guards, walking out to the mats to help the parents and Yuuko with getting all the children into skates.

He helped child after child with differing levels of skating experience learn something new, and to Yuuri’s surprise, the hours flew by. He and Victor were at different ends of the rink, but Yuuri constantly felt aware of Victor’s presence, calming him when he felt overwhelmed. 

At one point, Yuuri was helping a seven year old learn a simple single jump. After several tries, she landed it, nearly falling before Yuuri caught her. 

She beamed up at him. “I did it, Yuuri! Did you see?” 

“I did, it was fantastic!” he said. “Want to try again?” 

“Okay,” she said. She screwed her nose up in concentration, prepping for the jump again as he’d taught her to minutes before.

Yuuri happened to look over and see Victor watching him from across the rink, his eyes soft. Yuuri waved at him, and Victor smiled, his expression warm, and then he turned back to helping a four year old skate backwards.

  

 

* * *

“That was wonderful,” Victor said, once it was time to leave. “Did you have fun?” 

Yuuri slung his gear bag over his shoulder, and they made their way toward the front doors. “Yeah, I did, actually.”

A couple of ten-year-olds were turning in their skates at the front desk as they walked by. “ _Bye, Victor!_ ” one of them said, waving. 

Victor waved back. “ _Bye, Aiko. Good job today_." 

They paused in the atrium, as the paparazzi were waiting for them just beyond the doors. Yuuri pulled on his hat and Victor arranged his scarf for him. 

“Looks like it’s going to snow,” Yuuri noted, peeking out the window. “We have dinner with my family and Minako tonight, but we have some time until then.”

“A snowy afternoon with nothing planned? Whatever shall we do with ourselves?” Victor waggled his eyebrows at Yuuri. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “You really have a one-track mind lately.” 

“Can you blame me?” Victor’s smile was brilliantly white. “Ready?” 

Yuuri nodded, and they pushed their way out through the crowd of reporters and down the steps of Ice Castle. 

Rather than be dogged by the paparazzi the whole way back to the onsen, they found a cab, and they were whisked away amongst flashing bulbs. 

Despite the taxing practice, Yuuri felt lighter than air; helping the children learn to skate was a lot more fun than he’d thought it was going to be. And now, knowing what Victor wanted to do that afternoon…Yuuri stroked his thigh, looking out the window, biting his lip in anticipation, almost vibrating with energy.

After a few minutes, Victor covered Yuuri’s palm with his own, stopping his motions. Yuuri glanced over at him. 

“You’re driving me crazy right now,” Victor said softly, his eyes dark. 

“I am?” 

In lieu of responding, he turned Yuuri’s palm over and pressed his lips in the center, lingering for a long time. Yuuri felt the blood rush out of his head to… other places, as Victor looked up at him. 

“We can’t make out in the cab again,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor just smiled, putting Yuuri’s hand back on the seat but not releasing it. Instead, he rubbed small circles over his knuckles, which did nothing to alleviate the heat Yuuri felt pooled in his abdomen.

Yuuri felt himself squirming for the rest of the ride, and Victor just looked out the window innocently, a smile curling his lips.

 

  

* * *

When they got back to the onsen, Yuuri took Victor’s wrist and made a beeline for the family quarters. Mari raised her eyebrows at them as they walked quickly past. Yuuri shrugged, his face burning, as he pulled Victor toward his bedroom.

“Dinner’s at seven!” she called out after them. 

“I know!” Yuuri called back, tugging Victor inside. He closed the door, locking it behind them, and immediately pressed Victor up against it. He slanted his mouth against Victor’s, pressing his leg between Victor’s thighs.

“Don’t… _do_ …that,” Yuuri panted between kisses.

“Do what?” Victor gasped. 

“Get me hard in public places.” Yuuri pushed his hand up the back of Victor’s shirt. 

Victor let his head fall back against the door, thrusting against Yuuri’s leg. “You make it sound like you weren’t doing the same thing to me.” 

Yuuri nipped at his bottom lip, and Victor growled, pressing his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth. Victor slid his hand into Yuuri’s hair, tugging him closer and tipping the kiss over the edge. Yuuri moaned, indulging in the heat of Victor’s mouth for a little bit, grinding their hips together. 

“We are both sweaty,” Yuuri said between kisses. “We should shower.” 

Victor whined in protest, but Yuuri pulled him into the bathroom. 

“I didn’t say we had to _stop_ when we get in the shower,” he said, quirking one eyebrow.

Victor gulped. “I’ve created a monster.” 

Yuuri grinned, kissing Victor’s neck as he pushed Victor’s pants down his hips.

They made quick work of their sweaty clothes, throwing them on the floor of the bathroom. Yuuri stepped under the spray, pulling Victor in with him, pressing their lips together in a bruising kiss. 

Victor leaned into the embrace, sliding his hands around Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri’s cock pressed up against Victor’s hip, hardening more with every heartbeat. Victor’s hands were all over him—on his ass, sliding downward, as he tilted his head and slanted his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth. It was exquisite torture, ramping up his desire but not fulfilling it.

“I thought you wanted to get clean,” Victor mumbled against his lips.

Yuuri was loath to let Victor go, even for a moment, but he kissed him once more and released him. “I guess you’re right.” He picked up the bar of soap from the side of the tub. 

“Let me,” Victor said, taking the soap. “Turn around.”

Yuuri turned his back to Victor, suddenly feeling much more vulnerable than before.

Victor worked up a lather and smoothed the suds over Yuuri’s shoulder blades, his hands moving in slow, soothing circles down to his lower back. Yuuri’s eyes fluttered closed, and despite the heat and steam in the room, he shivered. 

Victor moved closer, pressing into Yuuri’s back and moving his hands around to his chest, continuing the maddeningly slow, massaging wash. He leaned forward to kiss at the juncture of Yuuri’s shoulder and neck, and Yuuri breathed out, exhaling as he tilted his head to the side. It was incredibly intimate, and sensual in a way Yuuri had never experienced before. 

Victor continued soaping down to Yuuri’s stomach. Then, just when his hands got teasingly close to Yuuri’s cock, they moved away again.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri groaned. “You’re _awful_." 

Victor chuckled, moving down to Yuuri’s calves, his fingers massaging the tight muscles. By the time he slid his hands up the back of Yuuri’s thighs, Yuuri was fully hard and aching. 

“Okay, rinse,” Victor said, bending to pick up his own shampoo bottle. Yuuri stepped under the hot water, letting it run down in rivulets, wetting his hair completely. 

“Step back,” Victor said, squeezing some of the shampoo out into his hand.

Yuuri obeyed, stepping out of the stream. Victor kissed between his shoulder blades before he started massaging Yuuri’s scalp, working up a lather. 

Yuuri inhaled deeply, letting the peppermint smell waft over him. Victor washed his hair slowly and reverently, and though Yuuri felt the anticipation building with every passing minute, it was almost better. Their lovemaking so far had been fevered, quick—heated passion in the moment—but now they could take their time, enjoy the torture before release. The physical closeness, the affection, was intoxicating.

“Okay, rinse.” Yuuri turned around, keeping his eyes closed, and rinsed out the shampoo.

“All done,” Victor said, sliding his hand through Yuuri’s wet hair. Yuuri opened his eyes, looking up at Victor.

Victor’s gaze matched his in desire, but it was more than that; it was warm, affectionate… crossing the line from lust into something else. Yuuri wanted to see that look for the rest of his life.

Feeling bold, Yuuri took the shampoo, squeezing some of it into his hands, and slid them into Victor’s hair, massaging his head a little with his hands, and Victor’s eyes fluttered closed, his pink lips parting slightly.

Once his hair was clean, Victor moved under the spray and rinsed, then stepped out from the spray, looking down at Yuuri.

Yuuri moved up to kiss his eyelids, softly, reverently. Victor’s breath caught in his throat, as if he hadn’t been expecting the gesture. 

Yuuri pressed his forehead to Victor’s, and he just breathed. Their hips were pressed together, cocks hard and leaking. 

“I need you,” he said simply. “Now.”

Victor’s eyes flew open, and a sudden surge of heat in his gaze was enough to make Yuuri even harder, if that was possible.

“I didn’t wash yet,” Victor said, but it was without conviction. 

“Don’t care.” 

Victor grinned, leaning down to kiss him once. “Your wish is my command,” he whispered against Yuuri’s lips. "Let me just wash off a little and then I'll be out."

Yuuri shivered again, his entire body tingling in anticipation. With difficulty, he extracted himself from Victor’s embrace long enough to turn off the water, grabbing a towel as he stepped out of the shower and quickly dried himself off. 

After a minute, Victor stepped out behind him, pressing his front to Yuuri’s back as Yuuri tried to dry his hair. He kissed down Yuuri’s shoulder, his cock sliding against Yuuri’s ass, and Yuuri dropped the towel, abandoning the attempt to get dry. 

“Bed, now,” Yuuri groaned, grabbing Victor’s wrist and pulling him out of the bathroom and toward the bed. 

In their haste, they tumbled down onto the mattress. Yuuri rolled them over so that he was on top, slotting himself between Victor’s thighs. He kissed messily, heavily, his reserves of patience finally spent. Victor’s hands were running up his back, and he was making noises that made Yuuri want more, more, more.

“What do you want?” Yuuri asked, kissing along Victor’s jaw.

Victor swallowed, hesitant.

“Tell me,” Yuuri urged. 

“I want…I want you to fuck me,” Victor whispered. 

Yuuri leaned back enough to meet his eyes, blinking at him. “You…what?”

Victor bit his lip, his eyes darting over Yuuri’s face, “I want you to fuck me,” he repeated, rolling his hips under Yuuri’s. “If… you want to.” 

“I…I thought you’d…” Yuuri stuttered.

Victor smiled slowly. “You thought I’d prefer it the other way around?” 

“Well, um.” Yuuri felt his face heat. “I guess…yeah.” 

“I like both ways, but I really love being fucked.” His fingertips trailed down Yuuri’s back. “It will also be easier for you in that position, since you’ve never done it before, I assume?” 

“No, I’ve never…done either.”

“I’ve been fantasizing about it for weeks now.” Victor’s eyes were hooded, his gaze falling to Yuuri’s mouth.

Yuuri shuddered, already imagining it; bending Victor over and pressing into him. Victor sucked at his pulse point, rolling his hips against Yuuri’s again. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait a second longer. 

“I don’t think I have… I mean, I have an old bottle under the sink from seven years ago, but… does lube expire?” Yuuri was having a hard time concentrating.

“Yes, it does. But there’s some in my suitcase, and condoms.” Victor kissed along his jaw, sliding his hands down to Yuuri’s ass, continuing to roll his hips. 

“Okay… okay…” Yuuri’s eyes fluttered closed, and he started thrusting into Victor, his cock rubbing against the vee of Victor’s hips. 

Victor moaned, his fingers digging into the meat of Yuuri’s cheeks, thrusting against Yuuri’s stomach. 

“Yuuri,” Victor moaned.

“Victor, _god_ ,” Yuuri gasped, thrusting harder. They lost themselves in it for a bit, the push and pull of their bodies.

“I thought you...were going to fuck me,” Victor said eventually.

Yuuri stilled, pressing his forehead into Victor’s chest. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Got…er. Distracted.”

Victor laughed, the sound so light and carefree that a little bubble of happiness in Yuuri’s chest. 

“Where’s the lube again?” Yuuri stood up, stumbling a little because he was so lightheaded. 

“Suitcase. Closet.”  

Yuuri took a deep breath and walked quickly over to the closet. He started pulling neatly-folded clothes out, pawing through Victor’s things. 

“Outer pocket,” Victor called out. 

Yuuri swore under his breath, flipping the suitcase lid down and sticking his hand in the outer pocket until he felt the lube and a box of condoms.  

Victor had had the foresight to bring lube and condoms with him—if that meant he had assumed he would be sleeping with Yuuri on this trip, or that he’d be sleeping with someone else? 

Yuuri stood, the bottle shaking in his hand. 

He turned around to look over at the bed, and all other thoughts were erased from his head as he was greeted with the sight of Victor spread out on his bed, his legs wide open, his abs rippling as he teased his own hole with his fingers, his other hand raking down his powerful thigh. His eyes were so dark that Yuuri could see his reflection in them.

“Get over here,” Victor said, lifting his chin. He didn’t stop the motions of his hand. 

Yuuri nearly dropped the lube and condoms, but he managed to move over to the bed on trembling legs, climbing onto the mattress. 

Yuuri was about to ask what position they should be in when Victor turned over onto his stomach, presenting his ass to Yuuri. Yuuri inhaled sharply, feeling like he was going to faint from the sight of it alone. 

The force of how much he wanted Victor—wanted this—hit him so hard that the world tilted slightly on its axis, and he forgot about anything other than the fact that he wanted to fuck Victor into the mattress.

Victor looked over his shoulder, his hair falling into his piercingly blue eyes.

“Yuuri,” he breathed, and Yuuri had to close his eyes for a moment. They had been engaging in foreplay for an hour, and Yuuri was definitely starting to feel the lack of blood to his brain.

“I’ve never done this, so just…tell me how.” Yuuri uncapped the lube, slicking up his fingers.

“Just massage it gently with one finger and then start slipping it in,” Victor said, his voice muffled. “Once it feels easier, work in another.” 

“Okay.” Yuuri leaned down to kiss along Victor’s shoulder blade as he started massaging Victor’s hole with one finger. 

“God, _yes_.” Victor pressed his face into a pillow, starting to moan. 

Yuuri tried to concentrate, slipping his finger inside gingerly—but he got distracted by the curve of Victor’s back as he arched into the touch, sucking Yuuri’s finger inward.

“Oh my god.” Yuuri’s cock was aching, watching his finger move in and out of Victor’s hole.

“More,” Victor moaned after a minute. 

Yuuri complied, massaging a second finger in alongside the first. It got easier after a little while, and he was able to add a third, squeezing more lube onto his hand first.

All the while, Victor was making noises that made Yuuri want to rub himself off against the sheets until he came. He still couldn’t quite believe that this was happening—that Victor wanted _him_ , let alone wanted him to do this. 

Once Yuuri’s fingers moved in and out easily, Victor looked over his shoulder, his eyes ravenous. “Now. I need you to fuck me, Yuuri.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Yuuri rolled on the condom and positioned himself, rubbing the tip of his cock against Victor’s opening. 

“Yuuri, oh my god, yes,” Victor muttered. “ _Please_.” 

Feeling like his entire being was on fire, Yuuri started pushing in, and Victor made a sound that made him want to thrust all the way in, but he knew that would be too painful. 

“A little…at…a time,” Victor panted, as if he could read Yuuri’s thoughts.

Yuuri took a deep breath and pressed forward, just a little bit, and back, thrusting a bit at a time, getting a little deeper each time. 

Victor pressed his face directly into the pillow again, moaning loudly.

“Shhh,” Yuuri hushed him, cradling his body as he pressed in further. It was so tight, so hot, and his whole body was singing with the fact that this was _Victor_ he was burying himself in. 

When he finally felt himself bottom out, he pressed his forehead to Victor’s back, feeling like he was hyperventilating. 

“Yuuri. Yuuri _move_ ,” Victor whined.

Yuuri looked down to where their bodies were joined, and pulled out slowly, feeling overwhelmed and like he was going to come any second, despite the condom.

He pressed in again, and they both groaned. His thrusts were long and slow, with a little force at the end of each stroke. He felt like he was going to lose himself in the heat of Victor’s body, the wonder of Victor letting him into this part of himself.

Victor was clutching the pillow in front of him, and Yuuri was about to ask him if he was alright when he lifted his head. 

“Harder.” Victor’s voice was hoarse.

Yuuri snapped his hips harder, slapping against Victor’s plush ass. Victor keened, tipping his face upward and his back arching, starting to thrust backward into Yuuri’s movements. His back muscles flexed, and his hair glinting in the low light as he clenched his muscles around Yuuri’s cock. 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri gasped, thrusting into the tightness, trying to keep himself sane enough to finish Victor off before he let himself go. 

“Yuuri, oh my Yuuri, you feel so good,” Victor groaned.

Yuuri bit his lip, reaching down to stroke Victor’s leaking cock as he moved.

“ _Ahhhhh_ ,” Victor moaned. 

Yuuri kissed the back of Victor’s neck, snapping his hips into him over and over. It wasn’t enough, though; he wanted to taste Victor as he came, to swallow his gasp as he orgasmed around Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri pulled out, both of them groaning, and turned Victor over. 

“Want to kiss you,” he said, leaning down to do just that as he positioned his cock and pressed back in. 

“Yuuuuuuuri.” Victor pressed his knees backward to the mattress, throwing his head back as Yuuri thrust long and hard into him.

Yuurikissed him, nipping at his lip, slanting his tongue inside as he snapped his hips. He may not have ever done this before, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to matter. It was all the best fantasies of his teenage years, Victor groaning into his mouth, his body hot and tight and exquisite around him. 

Victor reached down to pump his fist on his cock, his hips still rolling into Yuuri’s thrusts. 

“Fuck, Yuuri, oh…god,” Victor panted, his back arching, and Yuuri could tell that he was close.

“Come for me,” Yuuri whispered against his lips, and Victor threw his head back, come spurting from his cock. Yuuri kept thrusting into him, captivated by the beatific expression on Victor’s face. 

Yuuri tried not to move, letting Victor come down from the high. Victor finally relaxed, his limbs melting around Yuuri.

“Come on,” Victor said, kissing him, his hands sliding down to Yuuri’s ass. “You now.” 

“You’re not too sensitive?” Yuuri rolled his hips a little. 

“No. Do it,” Victor wrapped his long legs around Yuuri’s hips, pulling him closer. 

Yuuri thrust hard and deep, losing himself in Victor. He could do this forever, let the world around them suspend as their bodies rolled against each other, skin hot and slick, Victor making noises into his ear, “like that, baby, yes, just like that, you’re so beautiful, I want to see your face as you come...” 

Yuuri thrust in deep as he could go, feeling his orgasm cresting and biting into Victor’s shoulder as he finally let himself release, seeing stars as he came.

He collapsed onto Victor, his chest heaving.

“Oh my god,” he muttered into Victor’s skin. “I’ve never come so hard in my _life_.” 

Yuuri pulled out slowly as they both groaned. He took the condom off and got rid of it. 

He got back in bed and Victor—watching him with half closed eyes—held out his arms.

Yuuri slid into his embrace without hesitation; Victor turned so that his nose was nestled in Yuuri’s hair, breathing in deeply. Yuuri sighed, settling against him and just letting himself be held.

In the past, he’d never thought he’d be able to have sex with someone he loved, but this was something else entirely. It was the quiet moment right afterward, holding the man he loved, and being held like he was a precious thing. 

“Your _stamina_ is something to write home about,” Victor mumbled. 

Yuuri giggled, rubbing his nose into Victor’s neck, still riding the high of the most amazing orgasm he’d ever had. 

But of course…Victor probably had sex like this all the time. It probably wasn’t even that great, not compared to his other partners. 

“Is…is it always like this for you?” Yuuri asked, after a moment. “This…intense?”

Victor shifted back a little and opened his eyes, his gaze hazy. “No,” he said, after a pause. “No, it’s never been like this for me.” 

Yuuri blinked at him for a moment, stunned. 

“Do…um. I know that I’m your first…you know. Was, um...“ Victor bit his lip, cutting himself off, as if embarrassed to ask. The gesture tugged a little at Yuuri’s heart, and he reached up to cup Victor’s cheek. 

“I couldn’t imagine it being better than that,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor’s smile glowed, and Yuuri felt his answering smile bloom. Every time he thought he couldn’t possibly love Victor more, he was proven wrong. 

“Well, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Victor said mischievously, leaning down to kiss along Yuuri’s jaw, sliding his hand down Yuuri’s back. 

Yuuri laughed, feeling a bit dizzy. “Give me a few minutes. I know I’m younger than you, but I can’t get hard again in thirty seconds.”

“Fineeeeee.” Victor pretended to pout, resting his head on Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri slid his fingers through Victor’s hair, massaging his scalp, and Victor hummed in pleasure. This kind of easy intimacy—little touches, embraces—was all still so new to him, but with Victor, it felt natural. 

Victor’s phone rang from somewhere in the bathroom—Yuuri knew it was his, because his ringtone was “Lucky.” 

He poked Victor’s head. “Shouldn’t you get that?” 

“Mmmm too comfy,” Victor mumbled, snuggling deeper into Yuuri’s embrace. 

The phone rang again, then again, Britney’s voice sounding more shrill each time. 

“I can’t take it.” Yuuri extracted himself from Victor’s arms, despite his protests. 

He sorted through the discarded clothes on the floor, finding Victor’s pants and pulling his phone out.

The name on the front—Надя—meant nothing to him, but the last three calls were all the same person.

“Answer it, please,” Yuuri said, climbing back into bed and sitting against the wall.

Victor looked at the screen and frowned. 

“It’s Nadiya.” He thumbed the green button, answering the call.

“Надя, что случилось? Наш рейс отменили и что?” 

There was a pause, and then he put the phone on speaker, holding it out so Yuuri could hear. 

“Hi, Yuuri,” Nadiya’s voice said in English. He could hear clacking in the background, as if she were typing furiously as she spoke. 

“Uh, hey, Nadiya. How are you?”

“I’m fantastic. I have some great news for the both of you.” 

Victor raised his eyebrows at Yuuri, who shrugged. 

“We’re listening,” Victor said. 

“I have just gotten an offer from Nike,” she paused for a moment, dramatically, “for ten million.”

“ _Dollars_?” Yuuri squeaked. 

“Yep.” She popped her lips on the ‘p’ for emphasis. 

Yuuri felt his stomach drop out, but Victor was seemingly unfazed by this information.

“Two years?” he asked.

“One.”

“Ten million dollars for the two of us just for a year-long sponsorship?” Yuuri felt like his voice was becoming really high-pitched. 

“No, it’s ten million each,” Nadiya corrected.

“Each,” Yuuri repeated. “Like _each_ of us get that?”

“That’s what ‘each’ means, darling,” Nadiya said gleefully. “I’ll have the papers sent to Moscow. They want your signatures on the dotted line as soon as possible. I’m sure they’ll want to schedule the photo shoot for when you’re back in St. Petersburg, so the sooner the better. Must go, lots of press releases to write. Don’t forget, your car is picking you up to go to Fukuoka at ten.” 

She hung up without saying goodbye, and Victor dropped the phone on the bed, falling back to the pillow and rubbing his eyes. 

Yuuri blinked, feeling like he couldn’t quite focus. _Ten million dollars_. He could pay off all his debts, the onsen’s debts, and give money to his parents, and still have money left over. A _lot_ of money left over.

He glanced down at Victor, who seemed completely unsurprised by the offer, his eyes already closed again as he drifted. He got these kinds of deals all the time, probably, so it wasn’t as big of a shock.

“Stop thinking and get back down here.” Victor reached out toward him, his eyes still closed.

“We should pack, not nap,” Yuuri said. “We won’t have a ton of time after dinner.”

“Sleepy,” Victor mumbled.

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but he just pressed his lips to Victor’s forehead and lay back down. Victor made a satisfied noise in his throat, tucking himself into Yuuri’s side. 

Yuuri let himself be cuddled in Victor’s surprisingly strong—though sleepy—embrace for a long time, watching the snow start to drift down outside their window, a hollow feeling settling deep in his stomach. 

In his haze of happiness and endorphins, he’d almost forgotten about the sponsorship money, about the fact that this was why they had done all of the lying, the pretending. The Nike deal was the endgame, after all. Once they got the money, would that be it? Would Victor ask Yuuri to go back to Detroit, get a divorce, like the original plan? 

Yuuri imagined a future in which he had to go to competitions and only see Victor from afar, a new boyfriend on his arm, tall and beautiful and nothing like Yuuri, and his stomach spasmed in pain. 

He clutched Victor a little tighter, and Victor mumbled something in his sleep. Yuuri closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from crying.

As the sun started to fade into darkness, and he extracted himself from Victor’s heavy arms, putting on some sweats and a t-shirt. 

Yuuri padded over to the door, stealing one more glance at Victor’s beatific sleeping face, before slipping through quietly, and closing it behind him.

He walked all the way through the house to the side door by the kitchen, where no patrons would be able to see him, and walked out on the porch. The snow was drifting down silently, the air still and quiet.

Yuuri stood in his thin t-shirt, looking out at the grey sky, shivering a little, his breath billowing in the bitter air.

He heard the door open and close behind him. 

“I just want to be alone for a minute,” he said without turning around. 

Mari shifted into the corner of his vision, not saying a word. The sound of a match striking and a flare of flame lit up the porch briefly as she lit a cigarette.

Yuuri pressed his lips together. “I thought you were Victor.” 

She took a long drag, blowing the smoke upward, the curling tendrils melting into the snowflakes overhead.

“Where is he?” she asked. 

Yuuri shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets in an effort to keep his arms from shaking. 

“Napping. I’ll go wake him in a bit.”

They stood there for a while, neither of them saying anything, but Yuuri could feel her watching him.

Mari took another drag, then exhaled. “Something wrong?”

He tried to keep his face blank. “Why would anything be wrong?” 

“I don’t know, but you won’t look me in the eye.” 

Yuuri forced his gaze to meet hers, but said nothing. 

She squinted at him. “Something…isn’t right. When you first got here I thought you were on cloud nine, but…I don’t know, I can’t put my finger on it.” She tapped the ash off the end of her cigarette. 

“Can you just drop it?” he asked, unable to completely keep the waver out of his voice.

Mari kept watching him, and after a moment, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh. You’re not happy,” she said flatly.

Yuuri turned away, hunching his shoulders. “You should go back inside. It’s cold out here.” 

“ _Why_ aren’t you happy?” 

Yuuri felt his jaw tightening. “How could I possibly be unhappy? All of my dreams came true. I’m married to my idol, I’m the national champion, and I’m going to Worlds. I just landed one of the biggest sponsorships ever, big enough that I’ll be able to pay off all my student loans and back coaching fees, and mom and dad can retire.” 

Mari took another long drag, extending her arm. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

Yuuri sniffled a little, wiping his nose. It was so cold that it was starting to get a little runny. He couldn’t tell her the whole truth—that he and Victor had been drunk when they got married, and had only stayed that way for publicity. It would be too hard for her to keep the secret from his parents.

But he could tell her part of the truth; the most painful part. It was getting too big to keep inside, and the only person he could actually talk to about it seemed to be convinced that Victor actually felt something for him. Talking to Phichit about it would just rip the wound afresh.

Mari waited patiently, the smoke of her cigarette curling up into the roof.

Yuuri tilted his head back, looking outward at the darkening sky beyond the tile roof of the onsen. 

“He doesn’t love me.” Saying it out loud was like swallowing shards of glass. 

Mari stiffened. “What?" 

Yuuri blinked away the tears that pricked the sides of his eyes. 

“He. Doesn’t. Love. Me,” he repeated. 

“But...you’re married.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows at her.

She shrugged, waving her cigarette.“Okay, you don’t have to be in love to be married, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way you act around each other…" 

Yuuri shook his head. “I know you haven’t followed his career as closely as I have, but he constantly has a string of boyfriends and lovers, and I’m no different. The marriage thing…it’s…” he licked his lips. “Not entirely what it seems.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. I’m just...” he sighed, tilting his head back a little. “I’m so, _so_ tired of lying.”

Mari watched him for a long moment, her face now in shadow because of the growing dark. “Is that why you stayed with him then? Because of the money?”

Yuuri clenched his teeth. “No,” he said. “I stayed because I’m in love with him.” 

The thought of giving up Victor was like thinking about giving up breathing; but the money…he would give it all up in a second if it meant he could stay with Victor. 

Mari exhaled, looking as defeated as he felt. “What are you going to do?” 

Yuuri closed his eyes, clutching his elbows. “I don’t know.” 

Mari dropped her cigarette on the ground, smashing it with her foot.

“Dinner’s almost ready, Minako will be here soon.” She opened the door, then paused, looking back at him. 

“Think about what it is that you really want,” she said. “What would actually make you happy.”

Without waiting for an answer, she went inside. 

Yuuri looked up at the flakes drifting down. In a minute, he would need to go inside and wake Victor up, pack hastily, and make their way to dinner and to the airport. But he didn’t want to go just yet. 

He sighed, closing his eyes and inhaling the smell of snow.

Happiness. What would make him happy? 

The only happiness he’d ever felt in his life had been from skating, and then Victor. Skating had brought him both both joy and bitter disappointment. And Victor… loving Victor was the most painful of all. 

He didn’t really know what true, pure happiness that wasn’t bittersweet felt like. He thought about a future in which he was happy…

And all he could think of was Victor. Waking up with Victor. Skating with Victor. Bringing Victor pleasure, and feeling bliss from Victor’s touch. Making Victor proud of him, both inside the rink and out. Teaching small children to skate with Victor. Walking on the beach with Victor when they were old, hand in hand.

 _What I really want is for him to stay with me because he loves me too, and not for the money or for fame,_ he thought. _If he loved me back, that would be true happiness._

He held up his right hand, looking at the gold ring on his finger against the dark background of falling snow, but the silence gave him no answers. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> [1] "Надя" = Nadiya
> 
> [2] “Надя, что случилось? Наш рейс отменили и что?” = What’s wrong, Nadiya? Did our flight get cancelled or something?”  
> Notes:
> 
> I was planning on getting into Moscow this chapter but then I wrote a 3K sex scene (complaints? I think not) and it became a monster chapter, so Moscow will be next time. Don’t worry, you’ll get to see our boys in tuxes soon!
> 
> The Nike deal ($10 million per year for each Yuuri and Victor) is purposefully high, around what the top athletes in respective fields are offered from the company. It probably is on the high end for figure skaters, but it’s nowhere near record-breaking. Michael Jordan, for example, gets $50-$60 million annually from Nike (yes, really). See here for the other highest sponsorship deals from Nike: http://www.tsmplug.com/richlist/nike-highest-paid-endorsement-deals/


	12. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor travel to Moscow for the New Year's Eve ball, and Yuuri meets Papa Nikiforov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My resident Russian, [rogovich](https://rogovich.tumblr.com/), has really outdone herself this time, giving me tons of references for New Year’s celebrations in Moscow and generally answering my questions about all things Russian, as well as doing tons of translations for this chapter. Thank you so much.
> 
> I went back through the previous chapters of the whole fic and added numbers to the translations so that you can more easily figure out which translation is for which Russian phrase. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get hyperlinks to work (I was trying to make it so that you could click the footnote number and it would take you directly to the translation), but this is better than it was before, at least.
> 
> Additionally, there are quite a lot of translations for this chapter, so I’d suggest having a second tab open scrolled down to the end notes so you can easily see the corresponding translation as you read. Or don't, I'm not going to tell you how to live your life.
> 
> For those of you who didn’t see it, [here’s a link](http://victuuriplease.tumblr.com/post/169077256776/this-text-convo-takes-place-right-after-the) to the ESBS extra I posted on tumblr recently (it’s a text convo between Chris and Victor right after the events of chapter 11). 
> 
> [Deeyosa](https://deeyosa.tumblr.com/) made a wonderful comic of the scene in Chapter 9 where Victor and Yuuri finally go at it, which you can find [here](https://deeyosa.tumblr.com/post/169387207054/i-wanted-to-complete-this-but-ive-become).
> 
> Laura [longhornletters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonghornLetters/pseuds/LonghornLetters), you are my rock.
> 
> Warnings: mentions of Vicchan’s death

 

Yuuri lingered on the porch as the sun faded, blowing on his cupped hands to keep them warm. Eventually, he admitted defeat and went back inside, his heart heavy.

He walked past the kitchen, peeking around the corner to the dining room. Victor was already drinking sake at a table with Minako, wearing dark jeans and a black v-neck sweater, his hair still a little damp. He’d obviously taken a shower after he’d woken up. 

Victor laughed at something Minako said, his eyes half-closing and his head tilting back. 

Yuuri paused, torn between wanting to drink in the sight of him—happy, relaxed and beautiful—and wanting to avoid him. Now that he’d told Mari about his unrequited love, it felt more real, more visceral.

He was about to turn away and go back to his room when Victor caught his eye over Minako’s shoulder. His eyes immediately lit up.

Yuuri felt a little tug in his chest as Victor got up and strode over to him.

“Hi,” he said, the sides of his eyes crinkling, his nose a little pink. He looked like he was drinking Yuuri in, like he hadn’t seen him in ages, even though he’d left their bed an hour ago at most.

“Hi,” Yuuri said, stepping toward him. As always, his body felt pulled toward Victor’s like a magnet. 

Victor leaned in and brushed his lips against Yuuri’s.

“Victor,” Yuuri mumbled.

Victor sighed, leaning back. “I forgot, you don’t like me to kiss you in front of your family, sorry. C’mon, let’s eat.” 

He grabbed Yuuri by the wrist, tugging him toward the table. He plopped down on the floor where he’d been sitting before and pulled Yuuri onto his lap. 

Minako raised an eyebrow at them, but Yuuri just ducked his head. 

“I’ve just been hearing all about Minako’s dancing career. You know what’s strange? She knows Inessa!”

“Really? What a small world.” Yuuri tried to act normal, even though a storm was raging in his chest, waves crashing against his skull. 

Minako scoffed, her eyes already a little glassy from the sake. “Small elite international ballet world.” 

“We should take a selfie and send it to her, she’ll be thrilled.” Victor jostled Yuuri on his lap a little, pulling his phone out of his pocket and leaning over so that Minako was in the frame. 

Minako winked at the screen, holding up her sake, and Victor grinned. Yuuri could see himself in the screen: dark circles under his eyes, his skin pale. He forced himself to smile as the camera clicked. 

Victor put his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder as he chose a filter for the photo, sending it to Inessa before posting it on Instagram. 

Mari came out of the kitchen with a tray of tea. “Mom’s coming over to eat in a minute. Dad said he’d be out once he finishes with his order,” she said, setting it on the table. 

“Thank you, Mari!” Victor said brightly, hugging Yuuri’s stomach, his chin still on Yuuri’s shoulder. 

Mari’s eyes narrowed, her gaze icy. She said nothing in reply, simply turning and going back to the kitchen. 

“What’s wrong with _her_?” Minako tilted her head towards Mari. 

“I think she’s just in a bad mood, all the reporters outside and everything.” Yuuri avoided her eyes, pouring himself some tea. 

“Hmmm.” Minako chewed her bottom lip, then shrugged, putting her sake down. “I’ll be right back after this short commercial break.” She stood up and walked in the direction of the toilets,swaying a little on her feet.

Once she left, Victor turned his nose into Yuuri’s neck, nuzzling it a little and inhaling deeply.

Yuuri’s eyes closed, the storm in his chest calming a little. Victor’s touches, the affection he showed…it was hard to resist.

“You still smell like…” Victor trailed off.

“Like what?”

“Like…us.” 

“Oh.” Yuuri felt his face heat, his eyes darting around the room. There weren’t any patrons nearby, so no one else could have noticed, except possibly Minako. “I better go shower.”

He started to get up, but Victor’s arms tightened around him. “I like it. Don’t shower until after dinner.”

“Victor.” 

“Please?” 

Yuuri relaxed a little in his arms, acquiescing, even though he still felt vaguely uncomfortable.

Eventually, Hiroko brought in more food, and Toshiya and Mari joined them when all the patrons had been served. Thankfully, Mari didn’t say anything directly to Victor, but her stony glares were enough to warrant more incredulous looks from Minako.

“ _Aren’t you going to pay your respects before you go_?” Mari asked as the meal was winding down. 

Guilt sunk into Yuuri’s stomach like a lead weight. She was right; it was nearing time to leave, and he’d been putting it off since he’d set foot back in the onsen. “ _Yeah, I will_.”

She nodded, and Victor looked back and forth between them, but Yuuri just shook his head.

After a few more minutes, Yuuri excused himself to go to the restroom, extracting himself from Victor’s arms. As he reached the end of the dining room, he glanced back. Victor was beaming, telling a story having something to do with Chris and the European Championships, with Minako drunkenly translating. Instead of turning right to go to the restrooms, Yuuri went left, toward the part of the family quarters he’d been avoiding for their entire trip.

When he reached his destination, he hesitated at the doorway, shifting from foot to foot. Paper lanterns left the room in muted, soft light, but he could still see the thin layer of dust on this old treadmill, which had been pushed surreptitiously into the corner. 

As he walked quietly across the tatami mats to the shrine, he felt a new, crushing wave of guilt. If Victor hadn’t been in Hasetsu with him, he probably would have done this much sooner, but he hadn’t wanted to explain what happened to Vicchan, not when the hurt was still too close. And then everything with Victor had been far too...distracting. 

Yuuri sighed, kneeling in front of the shrine, pressing his forehead to the mats for a few seconds. He straightened, took a stick of incense and lit it on the candle, placing it in front of the picture of himself and Vicchan. 

“I’m sorry, boy. I should have come here sooner,” he said into the dusty air. 

He let his head fall forward, chin to chest, squeezing his eyes shut. The sadness that had settled inside him all afternoon bubbled to the surface again, curling tendrils of doubt and self-loathing taking shape. The pads of his fingertips dug into his knees as tears pricked his eyes. 

Vicchan had been there for him so many times when he had been sad, or anxious; when he’d felt like he wasn’t good enough, when he’d felt isolated from the world around him, when he’d been sure that he was going to fail. And then, when he’d gotten the chance to train with Celestino, he’d left Vicchan at the onsen and gone out to pursue his dreams. He wished he could go back a year and take a week off of training to come home and see the tiny poodle...let him curl up on Yuuri’s lap one last time while Yuuri sang him an old lullaby. 

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri rubbed the tears from his cheeks with his sleeves. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he said without turning around.

“What are you doing?” 

Yuuri sighed, sniffing a little, and looked over his shoulder.

When he met Victor’s gaze, Victor’s eyes sharpened. He stepped forward, reaching out toward Yuuri.

“Yuuri, what’s wrong, I—” 

“Nothing,” Yuuri said automatically. 

Victor hovered at his side for a moment, then placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s obviously not nothing. You’ve been quiet all night, I’ve been worried. Tell me.” 

Yuuri swallowed, hesitating, and Victor squeezed his shoulder. It was a simple gesture, just enough to say _‘I’m here.’_

Yuuri reached out to touch the photo with the tips of his fingers.

“This was my dog. Vicchan.” Yuuri’s voice wobbled slightly. 

“He’s like a mini Makkachin,” Victor said softly. 

“Yeah.” _That was the point,_ he thought. “He died the day before the Grand Prix Final.” 

Victor froze for a moment, then knelt on the floor next to Yuuri. “Oh, Yuuri.” 

“I was so upset, I ate my weight in terrible food, and I…I felt so selfish, giving up my last chances to see him because I was so focused on skating. And then I totally fucked up in the free skate and it was all f—for nothing.” Yuuri felt the tears starting to well up again, turning away.

Victor said nothing, simply pulling Yuuri into his arms until he was half onto Victor’s lap.

He hadn’t wanted Victor to see him like this, especially after the conversation with Mari and all the mental turmoil he’d been through in the past few hours…but now all he wanted was Victor to hold him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay. 

“I never even got to say goodbye.” He choked a little, his voice muffled into Victor’s shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry,” Victor stroked his hair. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. If it had been Makka, I…”

“You probably still would have won, because you’re not _weak_ ,” Yuuri said bitterly. 

Victor made a noise in his throat. “First of all, loving something that deeply makes you stronger, not weaker,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Second, you are not, and have never been _weak_ , in any way.” 

“I’m weak mentally. I can’t get over things like you do—”

“I struggle with things too, Yuuri,” Victor interrupted. “More than you know. If Makkachin died, I would have been too upset to compete, let alone just miss a couple of jumps.”

Yuuri sniffled, rubbing his nose. “I just wish I could have come back earlier, seen him one last time. I was…” _too caught up in my life, in winning, in being the best._  

Yuuri closed his eyes, letting the tears fall freely, soaking Victor’s shirt. 

“He was a good dog,” Victor whispered. 

Yuuri choked a little. “You didn’t even know him.”

“No, but I know that he was.” 

Yuuri’s fists tightened in Victor’s shirt, and he realized: even if his love for Victor wasn’t returned, Victor was his rock in the storm, now. Victor was the one he turned to when he was sad, when he was happy, when he was broken, when he was victorious. For better or worse, Victor was the only one he wanted when he felt like he was falling apart, the only person he trusted to hold him together.

 

* * *

“ _Just don’t let it be another five years before you come back_ ,” Hiroko said as Yuuri pulled his coat on, their suitcases already by the door. “ _We still have to host your real wedding!_ ”

“ _I won’t_ ,” Yuuri promised, pulling on his hat. He hoped that his mother didn’t notice the puffiness in his eyes—if she did, she said nothing. 

“And like I said before, I’m going to fly you all out for Worlds, okay? It’s been too long since you saw Yuuri skate in person,” Victor said, pausing so that Yuuri could translate for him.

Hiroko grinned and hugged Victor. “ _I’m so proud to have you as a son-in-law_.”

Victor looked so happy that Yuuri had to turn away, pretending to check his gear bag one last time. 

Mari was leaning against the counter, watching them coldly.

“Bye, Mari,” Yuuri said, giving a small wave.

Mari’s eyes flicked away from Victor as she pushed herself away from the doorframe, walking over to Yuuri. She hugged him tightly, which was so unlike her that he inhaled sharply in surprise.

“ _I know you’re an adult and you can make your own choices,_ ” she said in Japanese, her voice low. “ _But I’m worried about you. Take care of yourself, okay_?” 

Yuuri nodded. “ _I will_.” 

When they released each other, she put her hands on his shoulders, squeezing them a little.

Yuuri didn’t say anything, just meeting her gaze for a long moment. She nodded once, letting go and walking back toward the family quarters.

“Goodbye Mari!” Victor called after her. 

“Bye,” she called back without turning around.

Victor’s smile faltered a bit, and Yuuri cleared his throat. “Let’s get going, shall we? It’s a long drive.”

 

 

* * *

They had a short two-hour flight to Tokyo to make their connecting flight. Despite the fact that it was a redeye, there were plenty of people on the tiny commuter plane. Their layover in Tokyo went by quickly, and then they were boarding the flight to Moscow. 

They were in first class again, the seats even more luxurious than last time they were on a long overnight flight. Yuuri tried to mentally tabulate how much money he probably owed Victor and realized he had no idea how much these seats actually cost.

Sighing, he put his backpack in the overhead bin and went to the window seat. 

As they got settled, a flight attendant approached. “Anything to drink?” she asked. 

“Champagne,” Victor said, plopping down in the aisle seat.

“Seriously?” Yuuri raised his eyebrows.

Victor blinked at him. “What?”

“Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“You should have some too, it’s almost New Year’s!”

Yuuri shook his head. “Do you have genmaicha?”

“Of course,” the flight attendant said, nodding. 

“I’ll have that, thank you.”

Yuuri took his Sony game player out of his bag and put in his headphones as they started taxiing.

Once they took off and reached cruising altitude, the attendant brought their drinks and some pillows and blankets.

“Want to watch something?” Victor asked, pulling out his laptop.

“Sure, I don’t think I could fall asleep right now.” Yuuri put his gameplayer in the seat pocket, shifting so that he could lean his head against Victor’s shoulder. He felt very clingy at the moment.

Victor kissed his temple, clicking on a movie. Yuuri groaned in mock annoyance when he saw the title. 

“What? You never got to see the end!”

“Okay, just as long as you don’t sing too loud, people are trying to sleep.” 

“Deal,” Victor acquiesced, handing Yuuri one of his earbuds. 

He popped the earbud in as the opening notes of _Moulin Rouge_ started playing. 

True to his word, unlike the first time they watched the movie, Victor only hummed the melodies under his breath. During the love ballad, he took Yuuri’s hand, reminding him forcefully of how they had danced to the song in front of the Christmas tree. It already felt like a lifetime ago. 

By the time Satine and Christian were singing their reprise of “Come What May,” Yuuri felt tears starting to prick his eyes.

For a minute, after the curtains closed, it seemed like everything was going to end happily. And then…Christian held her limp body, sobbing, as she gasped her last breath and slipped away. Yuuri felt like he couldn’t breathe as the end credits started to roll. 

“So what did you think?” Victor asked, pressing the spacebar once.

“She—she _dies_?” Yuuri stuttered. 

“Er…well.” Victor’s nose turned pink. “I kind of forgot about that, I’ve seen it so many times…”

“It’s just so sad.” Yuuri wiped away a tear from his cheek with his thumb.

Victor pressed his lips together. “I suppose it is.”

“Why is it your favorite movie?” 

Victor cocked his head contemplatively, looking at the keyboard. “I think it made me believe in love, even through tragedy,” he said slowly.

Yuuri’s brow furrowed. Victor’s gaze was unfocused, and Yuuri could tell he was somewhere else.

He brushed his fingers over the back of Victor’s hand, a gesture of comfort, like Victor had done for him back in the shrine room.

Victor’s eyes flicked over to him, blinking a bit as if bringing himself back to the present.

“I think we should try and get some sleep,” he said, abruptly changing the subject. 

“What were you just thinking about?” Yuuri asked, not wanting to let it go. 

“Nothing you need to worry about, солнышко,”[1] Victor said. “Let’s sleep, so we aren’t tired tomorrow.” 

Yuuri sighed, nodding, even though he wasn’t sleepy yet. Victor stowed his laptop, and they reclined their seats to their sleeping position. Victor pressed his body as close to Yuuri’s as the airplane seats would allow, holding his hand under the blankets as he drifted off. Yuuri didn’t sleep for a while, looking out the window at the dark clouds. The dark, empty sky between the stars made him feel lonely, despite the fact that he was being cuddled by the love of his life. 

Eventually, he drifted off too. He dreamed of gliding on his skates, the sun pouring through the windows onto the ice. He started a spin, spinning and spinning, but he was out of control and unable to stop. He saw Victor in his dream, walking away from him, and Yuuri tried to call out to him but his voice caught in his throat, until Victor was gone.

Yuuri felt himself wake with a jolt, a cold sweat covering his skin. A few hours must have gone by, because the cabin lights were down and the darkness was deep outside his window. 

He turned to look at Victor, who was tossing and turning, saying something in Russian.

“Пожалуйста, не надо. Прости меня...”[2]

Yuuri watched him for a moment, trying to see if Victor would wake up. 

“Пожалуйста, пожалуйста, прости меня.”[3]

“Victor,” Yuuri smoothed his hand over Victor’s arm.

Victor winced in his sleep, flinching away from the touch. “Нет, не надо, Алекс, пожалуйста... ” he whimpered. “Не надо.”[4]

“Victor.” Yuuri shook him a little. 

Victor blinked his eyes open, a tear running down his cheek. “Yuuri,” he breathed, burying his face into Yuuri’s shoulder. “It’s you.” 

“Of course it’s me. It was just a dream.” 

Victor shuddered, burrowing his face a little more into Yuuri’s sweatshirt.

Yuuri combed his fingers through Victor’s hair. “You have nightmares a lot.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not like you can control it. Are you okay?” 

“Just…hold me for a while?” Victor moved over so that he was basically sharing Yuuri’s seat, wrapping his long limbs around him. Yuuri could feel him breathing, his hair brushing against Yuuri’s skin. 

“Please don’t leave me,” Victor mumbled into his neck. 

Yuuri blinked, looking down at him. “I won’t.” 

Victor sniffled a little. Yuuri kept smoothing his hair, and started humming [the old lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wnj-tz8i8n8) he used to sing to Vicchan, trying to soothe Victor—and, if he was being honest, himself.

“What are you singing?” Victor asked after a few minutes.

“Just a lullaby. My mom used to sing it to me.” 

“It’s beautiful.” 

Yuuri held him close, singing softly as Victor eventually drifted off again in his arms.

 

* * *

The next time Yuuri blinked his eyes open, the sun was starting to peek over the horizon. He yawned widely, grabbing his glasses from the side table and putting them on just as the flight attendant came down the row.

“Breakfast?” she asked in a hushed tone, glancing at the still-sleeping Victor at his side.

“I think so, I want some at least. Just a second.” Yuuri shook Victor’s arm a little. “Vitya, it’s time to wake up.”

Victor just groaned, pulling the blanket over his face. 

Yuuri poked the Victor-shaped lump under the blanket. “Don’t you want coffee?” 

Victor mumbled in Russian, and Yuuri rolled his eyes. 

“Two breakfast trays, please, one black tea and one coffee,” Yuuri smiled up at the flight attendant. 

“Right away,” she said, bustling away. 

They arrived in a snowy Moscow just as dawn was breaking. Victor was slightly less grumpy once he had some coffee and blintzes, but he was still yawning as they left the plane.

As they came off the jetway, several people turned to stare at them, a few taking pictures with their phones.

“So much for being anonymous while we are here,” Yuuri grumbled. “You’re basically the most famous athlete in Russia, aren’t you?”

“Ummm.” Victor shrugged, looking chagrined.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He grinned, bumping Victor’s shoulder with his own. 

They went through customs, including getting their bags, and walked out to meet Inessa. Yuuri didn’t recognize her at first, though she was front and center in the arrivals area. Her hair covered with a stylish silk scarf, and she was wearing huge, dark sunglasses despite the fact that they were inside. She was holding up a sign that proclaimed, “Congratulations Katsuki Yuuri, Japanese National Champion!”

She waved when she saw them, grinning.

“Hi Mama,” Victor said, kissing her on each cheek.

“Hello darling.” 

“Inessa.” Yuuri smiled, holding out a hand. “Nice sign.” 

“Don’t be so formal, котёнок.”[5] She pulled him close and hugged him. “I’m so proud of you! Of both of you,” she kissed his cheek. 

“Why didn’t I get a sign, then, Mama?” Victor teased. A lot of people had noticed them by this point; several people were whispering and pointing, and more people were taking out their phones and snapping photos. It was only a matter of time before the paparazzi showed up.

“You’ve already won nationals so many times that it’s old hat for you at this point,” she said. “But you already know I’m proud of you too, of course, darling. Congratulations on your…seventeenth title?” She kissed him on the cheek. 

“Seventh. Thanks, Mama,” Victor rolled his eyes. “Where’s Papa?”

“He’s coaching a double practice, since tomorrow they have the day off. You know how it goes. He’s working his boys extra hard this year so that they can try and win the World Championships on home ice.” 

“Right,” Victor said, a shadow crossing his expression. 

“He’ll join us tonight for the ball.”

Before Victor could respond, a girl of about fifteen came up to him with a pen and a magazine, which featured Victor prominently on the cover.

“Виктор, я ваша огромная поклонница! Можно автограф?”[6]she asked, blushing slightly. 

“Конечно.”[7] Victor flashed his bright media smile, taking the pen and magazine. “Как вас зовут?”[8]

“And so it begins,” Inessa said, giving Yuuri a knowing look over her sunglasses. “We’ll be lucky if we ever get out of here now.”

Yuuri laughed. “Don’t I know it.”

Inessa sighed, crossing her arms. She and Yuuri moved to the side with the suitcases so they didn’t get trampled by the rush of people. To his credit, as usual, Victor was all smiles, showing nothing but kindness toward the many fans that started clamoring for autographs and pictures.

Yuuri glanced at Inessa out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” Yuuri said. “Victor said you like your privacy. No one seems to know Victor even has parents.”

Inessa smiled. “I’m very good at hiding in plain sight. Hence the scarf over the recognizable silver hair, which is the only thing that would get people talking. A little trick I learned from an old friend.”

“Does that really work?”

“Wonders, darling. Besides, you’d be surprised how few people put two and two together, since everyone seems to think I’m dead. It’s very convenient.” 

“Is being anonymous that important to you?”

Inessa turned to look at him, but he couldn’t see her eyes behind the glasses. “Is that what he told you?” 

“I, uh…” he trailed off, unsure if he’d said something he shouldn’t.

Inessa pressed her bright red lips together, turning back to look at Victor again.

“I don’t like being in the public eye, it’s true. But one of the main reasons Volodya and I stayed in the shadows is because Victor was so hungry to make a name for himself. He didn’t want to just be known for having famous parents, and he was afraid that he’d never make something of himself on his own. I was proud of him for that.” 

Yuuri watched Victor take a selfie with a group of twenty-year-old men, all of whom seemed extremely eager to be closest to Victor.

“I didn’t know that.”

Inessa grinned, squeezing his arm. “Oh, Yuuri, the things you don’t know could fill an ocean.”

Yuuri paused, contemplating that for a second. “Who was it?”

Inessa tilted her head to the side. 

“The friend who taught you this trick.”

“Oh. Jackie.”

“Jackie?”

“Kennedy. Well, Onassis, when I knew her.”

Yuuri gaped at her. “You were _friends_ with Jackie Kennedy?”

“That’s a long story, for another time.” She patted his shoulder. “Now, tell me about how Eros felt. I watched you in nationals, of course, but I want to know more.”

Yuuri told Inessa everything about the competition, and they chatted about Hasetsu and other things. Twenty minutes later, Victor was still swarmed, signing dozens of autographs.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Inessa said. She walked over to Victor, pretending to be a fan.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. Victor nodded. 

“Мне очень жаль, но нам нужно идти. Спасибо вам всем за поддержку!”[9] He smiled, waving at the crowds that had gathered, camera flashes glinting against his hair.

It took a couple of hours to drive into the city, and during the trip Victor and Inessa chattered away incessantly. Yuuri felt a bit jet-lagged, so he mostly just listened, looking out the window at the cityscape passing by. 

They finally made it into the city proper, and pulled up to a tall ivory [apartment building](https://ak2.picdn.net/shutterstock/videos/5064542/thumb/1.jpg) by a river. Inessa drove the car to the front so they could unload their suitcases and gear bags. As she emerged from the car, Inessa said something to the doorman, handing him the keys, and he nodded. 

“He’s going to park it for us,” Inessa said.

They walked into the grand foyer, which was lavishly decorated, sporting marble floors and a painted circular ceiling. Yuuri paused for a moment, taking in the ornate interior.

“Wow,” Yuuri said, craning his neck backward to look up at the gilt columns.

Inessa grinned. “I know, isn’t it lovely? Vitya bought this apartment for us as an anniversary gift several years ago.” She led them into the elevator, punching the button for the fourteenth floor. 

“Volodya tried to protest, saying that our other apartment was just fine. It was, but this one is nicer, and it’s closer to the city center.” 

Yuuri looked at Victor in surprise. “You gave your parents this apartment?” 

Victor shrugged. “I might as well do something with all that sponsorship money.” 

“Other than give half of it to charities, you mean?” Inessa raised an eyebrow at him. “The Coalition Against Domestic Violence sent a very nice holiday card, by the way. I guess they sent it to me because you’re never home…”

Yuuri blinked. “You donate money to domestic violence victims?” _What else do I not know about you?_  

Victor shrugged again, his nose pink. “They need it more than me.”

Before Yuuri could ask more, the elevator doors opened and they walked down a short hallway to the apartment. 

The interior was decorated in a minimalist fashion, but the whole apartment had a classic and expensive air, much like Inessa herself. The walls were painted in varying shades of dove gray and ivory, the furniture in the living room and kitchen upholstered in shades of white, grey and black. The large floor-to-ceiling windows let the morning sunlight stream in, and French doors opened out onto a large terrace. In the living room was a tall fir tree, strung with ornaments and with presents underneath. 

“You’ll be in the guest wing, of course.” Inessa set her purse down on the coffee table and unwound the scarf from her head.

“There’s a guest _wing_?” Yuuri peeked around the corner.

“It’s the only way we could get Vitya to stay with us rather than in a hotel when he visited,” Inessa said, raising her eyebrows at Victor pointedly. “I’m just going to check and make sure everything is ready for you in there, just wait here a moment.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine, Mama, there’s no need to fuss—” Victor started to protest. 

“I beg to differ, there’s every reason to fuss over my son-in-law.” She winked at Yuuri before disappearing down the hallway. 

“This place is beautiful.” Yuuri walked over to the windows, peering down at the street. There were a lot of people out walking, and boats chugging along on the river. 

“Do you guys leave your Christmas tree up for a long time after the holiday?” he asked. 

Victor walked over to join him by the window. “It’s really a New Year’s tree. Here in Russia we celebrate with a tree and presents on New Years’ Day, not on Christmas.” 

Yuuri froze. “Why didn’t you tell me that? I haven’t gotten presents for your parents!”

Victor waved his hand. “It’s okay, they won’t be expecting it. Besides, I bought some presents for them when we went shopping in Hasetsu, we can just say that they are from both of us.” 

“I feel like I should get them something, though.” 

Victor put his finger to his lips, tilting his head to the side. “Hmmm, well, we could go to the holiday market this afternoon, if you want. There’s one in Red Square, I think you’ll like it.”

“Okay. But I don’t even know what I’d get for your father. I know that he’s a hockey coach, but that’s pretty much it…” 

Victor’s jaw tightened slightly. “Yes, well. My father and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.” 

Yuuri frowned, not sure what to say to that. He’d gotten the impression that Victor and his dad didn’t get along, since he’d only ever talked about Inessa, but he didn’t know why. There was obviously more to the story than Victor was letting on. 

“It’s not because…you date men, is it?”

“What? No, no, no, not that,” Victor shook his head.

Yuuri waited, but Victor didn’t offer any other explanations, frowning down at the river like it had personally offended him. 

Inessa reappeared, cutting off the conversation.

“Everything seems settled. I put the clothes Nadiya sent in the closet for you. I’m just going to lie down for a bit, I had to get up so early to pick you up.” 

“I told you that we could just take a car—” Victor said quickly. 

“I wanted to pick you up, don’t be ridiculous,” Inessa interrupted, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, how do you deal with him every day?” she asked Yuuri.

“It is a burden I must bear,” Yuuri said gravely. 

Victor pouted, his lower lip jutting out comically. “The two of you always gang up on me, it’s not fair.” 

Inessa laughed lightly, the sound like tinkling bells on a winter morning. Yuuri grinned, realizing he’d missed her since they’d last seen each other.

“I’ll see you both in a few hours. Feel free to make yourself some food from the refrigerator if you’re hungry. We are leaving at seven.” She walked off down the hallway to the left of the kitchen.

“Shall we?” Victor hefted his backpack on his back again, and Yuuri nodded, following him down the hall toward the guest wing. 

The bedroom had a king-sized bed, mounted flat screen TV on the wall, dark furniture and floor to ceiling windows. The bathroom had a walk-in shower and a huge tub, big enough for two people.

Yuuri put his bags in the walk-in closet, where two garment bags were already hanging. Curious, he walked up to the one with his name on it, unzipping it. Inside was a sleek black tuxedo. 

“Oh my god, I’m going to look like an idiot in this,” he muttered. 

“Are the tuxes here?” Victor came into the closet, setting down his suitcase. His eyes lit up when he saw Yuuri’s tuxedo. “Oooh, that’s going to be gorgeous on you!” 

Yuuri gave him a pained smile. Oblivious, Victor opened his own garment bag to reveal a deep maroon tuxedo jacket that would look ridiculous on anyone else, but probably would suit him to a tee.

“Nadiya has good taste,” Victor said, zipping his garment bag back up.

Yuuri noticed two boxes on the floor next to each of the garment bags, one of which held dress shoes. Yuuri opened the other one, pulling aside tissue paper to reveal a sleek black mask with shining swirled embellishments.

Victor practically jumped with glee. “Ah yes, the masks!” 

“Why do we need these?” 

“Because it is a masquerade ball, of course.” 

Victor picked up his box, pulling out a beautiful mask of maroon and gold filigree. “Ooooh, perfect.”

Yuuri frowned, placing his mask back in the box. “You didn’t tell me it was a masquerade.”

“Would that make you more or less likely to go?” 

“Neither, I just…I’ve never been to such a fancy ball before, I guess.”

Victor put down his box, stepping forward into Yuuri’s space. “It will be fun. I’m looking forward to seeing you in that tuxedo.” Victor smiled, sliding his hands around Yuuri’s waist.

Yuuri’s face turned upward of its own volition, and Victor leaned down to sip from his mouth a couple of times—short, intimate kisses that felt like the spring breeze shifting through the cherry blossoms. Yuuri never wanted to stop kissing Victor like that. 

Still holding Yuuri close, Victor reached up to brush his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. “So, мой милый,[10] do you want to take a nap before lunch, or…?” 

“I’m not really tired. I’d like to practice a bit, if we can, since I’m assuming we won’t be able to on New Year’s day. Is there a rink I could use around here?”

Victor nodded. “I had a feeling you’d say that, so I booked time in a practice rink near here. It’s the place I use when I visit my parents. I’ll just drop you off, I have an…um...errand to run.”

“You aren’t going to practice?”

“Eh.” Victor shrugged. “The errand is more important.” 

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. “European championships aren’t that far away, you know.” 

Victor blinked at him innocently. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes, releasing him and turning to his gear bag. “Alright, Mr. Mysterious. Let’s get changed.”

 

* * *

When Yuuri slid out onto the empty ice, he immediately breathed a sigh of relief. He was used to being near Victor all the time, but he was glad for a respite, however short, from his presence. Skating was his haven, the place where he could find peace and clear his head. If there was ever a time that he needed that, it was now.

After warming up, he closed his eyes, running through his free skate step sequences a few times, letting his body bend and flex. The empty rink echoed with the soft scrapes of his blades against the ice. 

The past few days had been a whirlwind, and he hadn’t had time to just _think_. Winning nationals…kissing Victor on the ice...becoming more intimate with him than he could have imagined being with another person, mentally or physically. Telling Mari about the fact that Victor didn’t love him.

He opened his eyes briefly to launch into a quad salchow, his body spinning through the air. He landed it perfectly, and instantly wished that Victor had been able to see it.

Victor. He was an enigma. Every time Yuuri thought he’d figured him out, he was surprised again. 

Yuuri started a combo spin, letting the outside world fade away as he twirled on his axis. 

He thought of Victor following him into the shrine room because he’d been worried about him. Of Victor holding Yuuri through his sobs, letting him soak his shirt through with tears. 

Yuuri pulled his leg up into the camel part of the spin, remembering to hold it straight as Victor had told him. 

He thought of Victor waking up from a nightmare and begging Yuuri not to leave.

Phichit’s text floated into his head again, unbidden.

 _But what if he loves you too?_  

Yuuri closed his eyes. He had been telling himself over and over again that it wasn’t possible, that Victor would leave him again. 

But if he really thought about it objectively, Victor wasn’t acting like he was in this for the short term. 

Yuuri did a layback Ina Bauer, stretching his spine as far as it would go. He wasn’t really doing any one routine anymore, just going through motions of different moves, his thoughts rushing through him like the wind whistling through tree branches.

Victor wasn’t the persona he projected to the world, Yuuri knew that much. He volunteered to teach children, but kept it from the press and his sponsors; he treated every single fan with respect; he enjoyed spending time with Yuuri’s family and friends; he gave half of his money away to charities. He hadn’t so much as looked at another man since they’d been together. 

The more he got to know Victor, the more the ice prince facade shattered and fell away.

And what was left…was the real Victor.

He let go, thinking about that true Victor, the one he’d come to know.

Victor bringing him tea in the morning.

Victor’s eyes lighting up when he saw Yuuri from across the room.

Victor laid out beneath him, nose pink and hair glinting against the fresh snow.

Victor’s tender whispers in the dark.

Victor’s touches that weren’t seductive, but affectionate.

Victor sinking to his knees in front of him, eyes glittering with need. 

Victor crying in his sleep. 

Victor’s breath on Yuuri’s skin, worshipping him.

Victor in his arms, sleepy and sated. 

Victor’s eyes full of tears as whispered into Yuuri’s neck, _Please don’t leave me_. 

It wasn’t how someone acted if they were only using the other person for sex. 

 _Unless he’s being manipulative,_ the voice in the back of his head reminded him.

But why? He already had Yuuri in his bed, and he already had more money than he needed, so more sponsorships couldn’t be his motive. 

Yuuri entered another combo spin, whirling faster and faster. 

 _I thought you would leave_ _me_ _, not the other way around._

From the first day they’d woken up together, he’d made Yuuri fall in love with him more and more each day. 

_But what if he loves you too?_

Yuuri pulled out of the spin, building up speed until he launched into a triple axel. He under-rotated, and his blade nearly brought him down, but he managed to just touch his hand down.

He stopped, panting, his hands on his knees, staring down at the ice. Sweat dripped down his nose, plopping on the smooth surface below.

He looked at his watch. He’d been skating continuously for almost an hour without really taking a break. No wonder his legs and back were aching.

Daring to hope was dangerous. It would hurt so much worse if he hoped. 

He hadn’t dared to consider the other option: that Victor might actually care for him too.

He had no true proof that Victor did.

But he also hadn’t _asked_.

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars behind his lids.

_What am I going to do?_

 

 

* * *

As Yuuri came out of the showers in the locker room, drying himself off, his phone lit up with a text from Victor.

 _I’m here. The paparazzi are surrounding_  
_the rink, so I’m just going to stay here_  
_in the car and wait for you. (2:23 pm)_

Yuuri groaned.

 _That was quick. I thought we_  
_would have at least a day._

_I’m sorry :(_

_It’s probably because I often use this rink_  
_when I’m in town. They saw us at the airport_  
_this morning and then immediately camped_  
_out here._

 _It’s okay, I was expecting it…_  
_just not this soon. I’ll be out in five._

Sure enough, when Yuuri came out of the rink there was a swarm of cameras, many more than there had been in Hasetsu.

“Jeeeez,” Yuuri muttered under his breath, pulling his hood up against the bitterly cold air and shoving his way through the shouting reporters to the black car parked out front.

When he got close enough, Victor opened the door for him. Yuuri jumped inside quickly, shutting the door as the car lurched into motion.

Victor grinned at him. “How was practice?”

Yuuri shrugged. He’d barely noticed the practice itself, he was so lost in his thoughts. “Fine. How was your errand?” 

Victor practically glowed. “It went perfectly. Still want to go to the market?”

“I do, but I feel like we won’t be able to actually enjoy it, since someone will probably spot us and the paparazzi will descend on us again.” 

“Hmmm.” Victor rubbed his lips. “You’re right.” 

“I wish there was a way we could go without being—” Yuuri stopped, his eyes widening a little. “ _Jackie_.” 

“Without being Jackie? What is that? Is that another american slang term I don’t know?” 

“No, no, Jackie Onassis—it’s something Inessa told me about earlier. Do you have a hat with you? I think I have…” 

He dug through his gear bag and found two of his travel face masks, as well as two beanies he’d stuck down in the bottom.

“Yes!” he pumped his fist in the air triumphantly. “So, if we wear these airplane masks, and the hats, no one should be able to recognize us. Your hair is your most distinctive feature, and with everything but your eyes covered…” 

Victor stared at him for a moment, then his lips slowly curled upward. “Oh, that’s brilliant." 

Victor said something to the driver in Russian, grinning widely.

 

 

* * *

The driver pulled their car into into an alleyway a few blocks from Red Square, parking it discreetly behind some trash cans.

Yuuri and Victor pulled the hats over their heads and the masks over their mouths. They looked at each other, and both burst out laughing.

“We look absolutely ridiculous,” Victor said, eyes glittering with excitement.

“At least we’ll be warm, it’s freezing out. Ready?”

Victor nodded, and they walked out of the alley and into the street. Yuuri looked nervously around at the passers by…but no one so much as glanced at them.

“I think it’s working,” Victor whispered conspiratorially.

“I think you’re right,” Yuuri whispered back. 

Despite the fact that his mouth was obscured from view, Yuuri could tell Victor was grinning because the sides of his eyes crinkled, the irises deep blue in the fading light.

Yuuri held out his mitten-clad hand and Victor took it. As they walked down the street, snow started drifting down enough to dust the sidewalk. People were bustling about, doing last minute shopping or buying food for their New Year celebrations, none of them paying any attention to two masked tourists. 

They turned a corner and the holiday market was laid out in front of them: dozens of stalls offering all different kinds of wares, and delicious smells of food and drink wafting from others. 

“Shall we?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri nodded, and they started wandering down the first aisle.

“Oooh, hot mulled wine. Want some?” Victor asked, stopping in front of a stall. The potent smell of spiced wine drifted through the air. 

Yuuri was about to say no, since it was the middle of the afternoon, but he’d already trained that day, and it was New Year’s Eve. 

“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Victor bought them two large mugs of the wine. Yuuri pulled his mask up a little from the bottom to sip from his mug, tasting cinnamon, nutmeg and brandy. He savored every sip as they wandered from stall to stall.

After a few minutes they came across a large stall that was filled with all different kinds of hand-blown glass ornaments. 

“Oh, these are so pretty.” Yuuri stopped, looking up at a blue glass bulb with yellow starbursts painted on it. 

“Some of these are replicas of old-fashioned ornaments that became family heirlooms,” Victor mused, holding a glass icicle gently in one gloved hand. “I wonder…” 

He paused, looking up at all the ornaments hanging from the ceiling. 

“There,” Victor said, pointing at a dainty glass ballerina. “Oh, it’s _perfect_.” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s exactly like the ornament my mother used to have. It was passed down for generations in her family, and she loved it.”

“What happened to it?” 

Victor sighed. “When I was little, I was running around the tree, and…” 

“Let me guess…you broke it?” 

“It was an accident, but she was heartbroken. So was I. It was one of the only heirlooms she ever got from her family, since she was basically disowned when she married Papa.” 

Yuuri felt his brow furrow. “What? Why did they disown her?”

Victor shrugged. “They wanted her to marry someone of higher social standing, but she wanted to marry Papa. So they cut her off.” 

“That’s horrible.” Yuuri looked at his feet, trying to imagine his family cutting him out of their lives just for marrying Victor…but he couldn’t. 

He glanced back up at the ornament.

“If you think Inessa would like this, can I buy it for her? Since I don’t have any presents for her yet?” 

Victor’s smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds. “She’d love that.” 

Yuuri smiled back, even though Victor couldn’t see it. “Can you ask the shop owner to take the ornament down and wrap it for me? How much is it?”

Victor translated for him and helped him haggle a little. The ornament was rather expensive, but Yuuri didn’t mind; Inessa had done so much for him with his Eros program, and she was hosting them at her home. It was the least he could do.

Yuuri took the wrapped gift from the shopkeeper, bowing once and saying, “Спасибо,”[11] one of the few Russian words he actually did know. 

“What about your father? What would he like?” Yuuri asked as they walked away from the stall.

“Hmmm. He doesn’t like _things_ very much…but he loves food. Especially пряники.”[12]

“What’s that?”

“It’s Russian gingerbread. Oooh, here’s some!” He stopped at a stall nearby, which was selling dozens of pastries, and a whole side was dedicated to what looked like round gingerbread cookies. 

“You think he’d like these?” Yuuri picked up a sample, biting into it. “Oh, these are delicious.” 

“Yes, he loves them. He used to eat them all in one day, so Inessa stopped keeping them in the house.” 

After Yuuri bought some of the gingerbread, he found some nesting dolls for his parents—which he knew was cliche and touristy, but they would love them—and a Pavlovo Posad shawl for Mari.

Eventually they came to the end of the market, and right in front of them was a skating rink, with music playing over the loudspeakers. There were fairy lights decorating the boards, and the Kremlin was visible behind it in the growing dark. Couples, parents with small children, and groups of young people were all skating around in sloppy movements, everyone smiling and laughing. 

Victor pulled his mask down a little, his breath billowing in the winter air. “Oh my god, Yuuri, let’s go skating!”

Yuuri blinked. “I already skated today.”

“Not practice, just…” he gestured toward a couple who were holding hands, moving slowly around the rink.

“You want to ice skate for…fun?” Yuuri looked at him incredulously. 

Victor grinned, his eyes glittering. “Yeah!” 

“Victor, we don’t even have our skates—”

“We can rent some.” Victor pulled Yuuri toward the rental hut, pointing to a sign which gave the cost of renting skates and an hour of ice time. 

“They’ll be terrible,” Yuuri protested. 

“It will go well with our disguises.” Victor waggled his eyebrows at him. “Besides, what do you need your good skates for? We aren’t going to be doing quads out there.”

Yuuri glanced over at the carved-up ice, still skeptical, and realized he’d never skated on an outdoor rink before. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had skated “for fun,” not since he was really small.

“Alright,” he said, turning back to Victor. “But if this blows our cover, you’re buying me a hot chocolate.”

Victor’s smile was blinding, but he quickly covered it again with his mask. “You won’t regret it.”

When they reached the front of the line, Victor spoke in quick Russian, ordering their sizes.  

They pulled on their worn rental skates, and walked over the mats to the edge as [a new song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xV2Hkn9Jut4) started over the loudspeakers. Yuuri glided out smoothly, feeling odd in skates that weren’t his own. Victor stepped out gingerly, wobbling his arms a little as if he were unsteady on his feet. 

“You better hold my hands, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay upright.” He reached out toward Yuuri, smiling mischievously.

Yuuri rolled his eyes, grasping Victor’s hands and starting to skate backwards. “You’re absolutely ridiculous,” he said, lowering his voice. “I don’t think you could skate badly if you _tried_.”

Victor fluttered his eyelashes. “I am out for a date with my husband, who is a better skater than I am, and he’s helping me stay on my feet.”

“I don’t think anyone is fooled.” 

“Hmmmm, no one has recognized us yet.” Victor switched their positions—a little too gracefully for their charade—so that they were skating side by side, still holding hands.

Yuuri looked around, and indeed, no one was paying them any attention. It was possibly the longest they had spent in public without being asked for an autograph, at least recently. If the press knew that the Japanese and Russian national champions were skating on a tourist-y rink in the middle of Red Square, completely unnoticed, they would have had a field day.

Yuuri met Victor’s gaze again. “Try doing a flying sit spin, that might give them an idea.” 

Victor narrowed his eyes. “I thought you wanted to stay anonymous.”

“I kind of want to see how far the ruse will go, as long as they can’t see your hair. You could maybe even do a quad flip and no one would know who you are. It’s fascinating.”

“Probably not a quad flip. Even non-figure skaters would notice that, I think. Anyway, these blades are way too dull, there’s no way I could do it.” 

“I dare you.”

“What do I win if I do it?” 

“That’s not how dares work.”

Victor pouted.

Yuuri rolled his eyes again. “I’m just kidding anyway, I don’t want you to break your leg trying to do it, because then I can’t beat you at Worlds, old man.”

“Yuuuuuri!!” Victor frowned.

“I mean it.” 

“I bet I could do it.” 

“No you couldn’t. Not in this crowd and with those skates.” 

“Hmph.”

They skated around a few times, moving deftly around the novice skaters. It felt odd to just skate aimlessly; he was so used to pushing himself to the limit on the ice.

The music changed to a sappy [90s boy band song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fxh7jAJR8U), and Victor started singing along with the lyrics. 

 _Can this be true? Tell me, can this be real?_  
_How can I put into words what I feel?_  
_My life was complete, I thought I was whole_  
_Why do I feel like I’m losing control?_  

Yuuri raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” 

“You’re aging yourself magnificently right now,” Yuuri teased. 

“Oh, really? You are telling me you never listened to *NSYNC when you were younger? Or Backstreet Boys?” 

Yuuri avoided his eyes. “No,” he said, unconvincingly. 

“Hah, you did! I knew it.” 

“Okay, okay, so I had a crush on Justin Timberlake when I was like, thirteen.” 

Victor stopped abruptly, pulling Yuuri to a stop. “Justin!? Really? I had no idea your heart had been given to another from such a young age. I hate to tell you this, but he’s disappointingly straight.”

“Wait…are you telling me you know him too?” 

Victor glared at him, starting to skate again. “I refuse to answer that question.”

Yuuri chased after him. “Oooh, do you think you could introduce me to him?”

“Yuuri, don’t be cruel.” The mirth behind his eyes was gone, replaced with something like hurt. Yuuri hated seeing that look in his eyes.

Yuuri grabbed Victor’s hand and stopped again, using their momentum to pull Victor to him, their chests bumping together.

“I had a much bigger crush on you,” he blurted out.

Victor’s eyes softened. “Really?” his voice was unsteady, his accent slightly deeper than usual.

“Really. I had posters of you all over my room. You’re the one who inspired me to skate at this level, and I…” he trailed off.

“And?” 

Yuuri pressed his lips together. “I realized I was gay because of you.” 

 _Why are you telling him this?_ A voice in the back of his head started screaming at him. _Don’t you want to save the little dignity you have left?_  

Victor’s eyes widened, as if this information were completely out of the realm of his comprehension.

It should have hurled Yuuri into a spiralling panic. But for some reason, in that moment, Yuuri was no longer scared. Maybe it was the flash of hurt that had passed through Victor’s eyes at the mention of his childhood crush on another man; maybe it was when Victor said “Please don’t leave me.” Maybe it was when he’d nearly crashed into the ice during the triple axle that morning. Maybe it was when Victor held him in front of the shrine at home.

He had told Mari that he was tired of lying to the world. But in that moment, he realized the truth: he was tired of lying to Victor. He was tired of lying to _himself._

“Nothing, no one else, has ever compared to you,” Yuuri said honestly. 

“Yuuri,” Victor breathed.

They moved closer, like magnets drawn to each other, and Yuuri felt the rest of the world fade away; there was just them, and the ice below their feet, the wind whistling over their heads.

“And I’m trying hard to figure out,” Yuuri started singing along with the music, softly, tucking a small strand of Victor’s hair back into his hat. “Just how I ever did without, the warmth of your smile, the heart of a child…” 

The sharp edges in Victor’s eyes had softened into something new, something brilliant. Yuuri’s heart was pounding, waiting… 

 _Ask him_ , a new voice said in the back of his head. _This is the perfect moment. Ask him if he feels the same way._  

Victor pulled down his mask. “I really, really need to kiss you right now. Can I?”

Yuuri wordlessly pulled down his mask too, the curling tendrils of their breaths against the night air making him shiver. Their lips pressed together, softly, at first, then Victor enveloped Yuuri’s mouth, crushing their bodies together like he wanted to drown in him. 

Yuuri moaned a little against his lips, letting himself fall into the pull of Victor’s orbit. He’d been falling headfirst from the first moment those blue eyes met his on a bright Sochi morning, from the first time he’d seen that silver ponytail whipping around in a spin, and now…he didn’t resist anymore. He let himself fall.

He melted against Victor, tasting the spices on his tongue, cool breath of the air on his face, small brushes of Victor’s eyelashes against Yuuri’s cheeks. He forgot about the world around him, about anything but those hot lips and the touch of a gloved hand against his cheek.

 _I never thought that love could feel like this_ , the singer crooned over the loudspeakers. _And you changed my world with just one kiss._

 

 

* * *

After he showered, Yuuri put in his contacts and slicked his hair back a little, the way he did before a competition. He padded softly across the room to the walk-in closet, standing in front of the garment bag, listening to the trickling sounds of the shower and Victor singing a pop song in the distance.

After they’d kissed on the ice, they’d turned in their skates and walked back to the car in silence, holding hands as the snow drifted down. Yuuri had felt a kind of peace that he’d finally given Victor an idea of how much he meant to him, but at the same time, he felt unfulfilled. 

Sighing, Yuuri unzipped the garment bag, carefully pulling out the pressed slacks and shirt, putting them on with care. Finally, he took the tuxedo jacket off its hanger and pulled it on. He stepped in front of the mirror and turned to the side; he didn’t look half bad. The lapels were smooth silk, the cut extremely flattering. Nadiya must have gotten his exact measurements somehow, because the fit was absolutely perfect. 

Yuuri took his shoes from their box, grabbing the bow tie as well, and left the closet. He glanced at his watch as he set the shoes by the bed. It was still more than a half hour before they had to leave. He was always very early for everything; it was a nervous habit.

Yuuri took his phone out of his pocket, staring down at the two dozen text and call notifications from Phichit that he’d been ignoring.

He stared at the phone in his hands for a few seconds, then checked the time difference. It would be midday in Detroit.

Sighing, he thumbed the call button.

Two rings later, Phichit’s voice came over the speaker. 

“About fucking time, Yuuri.” He was panting, as if he’d been skating. Yuuri heard Celestino yelling something in the background.

“I know, I know, just give me a second,” he called out. “I’m gonna take five.”

Yuuri glanced over at the bathroom, where the shower was still running, as he made his way over to the balcony. He walked out and closed the door behind him, the cold biting into his exposed skin.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a shit friend.”

“Noooo, no no no. You don’t get to do this. Not this time. You’re trying to avoid the real thing we need to talk about." 

Yuuri pinched his nose. “I’m not—" 

“Yes, you are. You’ve been avoiding me because you know I could be right.”

Yuuri looked out at the lights of Moscow, his breath billowing out into the night. The wind had whisked away the snow clouds, revealing a clear black winter sky. 

“I know,” he said, so quietly that it was lost in the wind.

“What?”

“I know,” he said louder.

“So? What are you going to do?”

“I think…I’m going to tell him.” 

Phichit went silent for so long that Yuuri had to glance at his phone to make sure that they were still connected.

“Tell him what?” Phichit asked, finally, his voice low.

Yuuri cleared his throat, bracing himself for impact. “That I love him.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Yuuri. Oh…my _god_.” 

Yuuri chuckled. “Is that the only thing you can say?” 

“I didn’t think…I thought I’d have to prod you more.” 

“I know you did.”

“What changed?” 

Yuuri paused. He licked his lips, thinking about Victor’s hand fisting in Yuuri’s shirt that morning, his eyes filled with such sincerity that Yuuri’s heart ached. _Please don’t leave me._ A shiver ran down his spine.

“I realized I was so terrified he would leave that I didn’t think that he might be thinking the same thing.”

“Oh. Woooooow.” There was a dull thunk. It sounded like Phichit was sitting down on a bench. “I’m…speechless.” 

“That never happens.” 

“I know, right? That’s how you know this is like…huge. Mega huge. Like. _Godzilla_ huge.” 

“I know.”

They both paused for a moment, and Yuuri just listened to his friend breathing on the other end of the line. That was one of the things he missed most about being back in Detroit; Phichit was a chatterbox, but he always seemed to know exactly when Yuuri needed silence.

“When are you going to do it?” Phichit’s voice was a little hoarse. 

“Are you _crying_?” 

“No,” Phichit sniffled. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

Yuuri tucked his chin into his chest. “Why?”

“You won Nationals, you’re going to Worlds, you’re in love, and you’re brave enough to say it, and…and I’m just so fucking proud of you, okay?” 

Yuuri watched his breath curl up in tendrils toward the moon, disappearing into the dark sky. Just the night before, he’d been looking up at the sky in Hasetsu, the blackness threatening to swallow him whole.

“I think I’m proud of me too,” he said, smiling at the stars. 

He could hear Celestino yelling in the background. 

“Sto parlando con Yuuri, sono…” More yelling. “Okay okay okay,” Phichit said. “I have to go. Ciao Ciao is on my ass.” 

Yuuri laughed. “I have to get going anyway. Good luck.”

“I should be saying that to you.” Yuuri could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Wish me luck then.” 

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

Yuuri ended the call, leaning against the balustrade for a couple of minutes, letting the cold air seep into his lungs. 

He inhaled deeply, waiting for the panic to rise, but it never came. 

He looked out at the city skyline, thinking. He had been so scared for so long, but at this point, what did he have to lose?

Squaring his shoulders, Yuuri turned and walked back into the bedroom, sliding the door shut behind himself.

“Victor?”

“Where did you go?” Victor called out from the closet. 

“I was out on the balcony.” 

“What were you doing out there? It’s freezing!”

“Talking to Phichit.”

Victor came out of the closet wearing the maroon jacket, which was cut perfectly to show his trim waist. The deep color of the jacket set off his azure eyes, and his powerful though slender thighs pulled against in the fabric of his pants. 

“How is—” Victor started to say, then stopped dead in his tracks.

Victor’s gaze raked down his body, and back up again, his nose turning pink as he met Yuuri’s eyes again.

“I…uh. Do I look okay?” Yuuri felt himself blushing, fiddling with his sleeve.

Victor shook his head a little, then stalked over to him, his eyes predatory. Yuuri gulped, his mouth dry, as Victor moved directly up into his space, sliding his hands around his waist.

“Yuuri,” Victor purred, his accent making the ‘r’ in his name stretch out more. He leaned in to nuzzle at Yuuri’s neck. 

“Don’t wrinkle my clothes,” Yuuri protested, tilting his head back, letting his eyes fall closed.

“You are so unbelievably beautiful,” Victor breathed against his skin. He skimmed his nose up Yuuri’s neck, inhaling, and Yuuri felt like he was going to faint. “You even smell good.” 

“I smell like _you_. I used your body wash.”

“No, you always smell good.” 

Victor sighed against his skin. “The things you do to me.”

Yuuri’s breath stuttered a little as Victor’s hands slid to his ass. 

“We have to go,” Yuuri reminded him. 

Victor sucked against Yuuri’s pulse point. Yuuri gasped, feeling it go straight to his cock. 

“Vic—Victor. We can’t.” Yuuri arched into him. “Your parents are waiting for us.” 

Victor groaned, stopping his attentions. “Talking about my parents. _Not_ sexy.” 

“That was kind of the point,” Yuuri said, but he still momentarily mourned the loss of Victor’s body as he stepped away from him. 

Victor’s lower lip jutted out.

“Help me with my tie.” Yuuri grabbed it from the bed where he’d abandoned it earlier. Victor sighed, taking the small strip of cloth and slinging it around Yuuri’s collar. 

He tried not to look up at those plush, pink lips, only inches from his own, as Victor made quick work of his tie. 

Instead of stepping back when he was through, though, Victor moved a little closer. 

“Can you…” Victor held out a black jet cufflink, and raised his wrist, holding out the cuff of his sleeve. 

Yuuri took the cufflink with trembling hands. It took him a few tries, but he managed to fasten it in his sleeve.

“Other one,” Victor said softly, holding out the second cufflink.

As Yuuri put it through the hole in the sleeve, Victor leaned down and pressed his lips to Yuuri’s temple, his lips hot and soft. 

“Victor,” Yuuri breathed, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“Yuuri.” Victor slid his hand around Yuuri’s neck. 

Yuuri gulped, looking up at him. “Finished,” he said breathlessly.

Victor leaned down to kiss him once more on the lips. Yuuri held himself back, just barely, from leaning into it. 

“This is going to be torture,” he mumbled.

“Exquisite torture,” Victor agreed, smiling at him.

Yuuri blew out a long exhale, stepping back before he started kissing Victor senseless. If he started now, they would never even make it out of the bedroom.

“Ready?” Victor asked.

Yuuri nodded, picking up his mask from the dresser, and following him down the hallway to the living room.

Inessa was sitting on the sofa when they emerged, wearing a long, dark blue dress with brocaded sheer sleeves, her hair pulled back in an elegant bun. She held a golden mask with large peacock feathers attached to it, a glass of champagne in the other hand. 

“Wow, you both look amazing!” she said, standing up.

“So do you, Mama,” Victor said.

“Champagne?” Inessa asked, holding up her glass.

“In a minute. Is Papa—” Victor began to ask.

“Victor.”

A man in his late fifties with graying hair emerged from the shadows of the hallway. Yuuri felt Victor tense slightly beside him, elongating his spine to stand up a bit straighter. 

Vladimir Nikiforov was tall and muscular, though he’d obviously filled out a bit around the middle since his days as a professional athlete. His nose had been broken several times, but had never been fixed completely—probably by choice—and his eyes were the same blue as Victor’s, but they more closely matched fresh ice than the azure of a summer ocean. 

Victor walked briskly over to him and shook his hand, surprisingly formal considering how casually affectionate he was with Inessa. “Papa, this is my husband, Yuuri.”

Yuuri swallowed, wiping his hands nervously on his legs as he moved forward as smoothly as he could. “So good to finally meet you, Mr. Nikiforov.”

Vladimir took his offered hand, his eyes surveying Yuuri in one quick stroke. It wasn’t completely unlike the sharp, appraising gaze Victor fixed on him when he was out on the ice, but it was harsher, more aggressive. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Vladimir said, his rough voice heavily accented. 

He shook Yuuri’s hand once, firmly, then released it. 

“Он совсем не похож на Алексея,”[13] he said gruffly. 

“Естественно, нет,”[14] Victor snapped, his eyes colder than Yuuri had ever seen them. 

Vladimir raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Я имел ввиду, в хорошем смысле.”[15]

Yuuri frowned, thinking for the umpteenth time that he should download some kind of app to start learning Russian, because… _really_.

“English, please,” Inessa scolded, glaring at both of them. “Let’s not be rude to Yuuri.”

“Sorry, my English, it is not very good.” Vladimir smiled apologetically at Yuuri. 

“Let’s have a drink before we leave, shall we?” Inessa glided over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of champagne out of the refrigerator.

And just like that, Inessa managed to break through the ice that had formed in the room. Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief, walking over to the kitchen. 

“Let me help,” he offered. 

But as they raised their glasses to toast, Yuuri caught Victor’s gaze. His eyes were now tinged with the ice he’d seen in Vladimir’s gaze.

 

 

* * *

When they stepped out into the cold night outside of the building, wrapped in coats and shawls, two black cars were already waiting for them.

“Why two cars?” Yuuri asked, as Vladimir opened one of the doors for Inessa. 

“Keeping up the fiction that I have no parents,” Victor said, opening the door of the other car for Yuuri. “The paparazzi always camp out for this event, since a lot of well-known people attend the ball. But no photographers are allowed inside, as a strict rule.”

Yuuri slid into the sleek seats, and Victor slipped in behind him, taking his hand immediately.

“But won’t other people notice that you look like Inessa?”

“There’s a certain…code, among people of this echelon,” Victor said. “Don’t tell each other’s secrets, because you don’t want yours exposed either.”

Yuuri hummed, looking out the window as they whisked through the city streets to the ball.

Victor said nothing for the whole car ride, just rubbed the ring on Yuuri’s finger slowly.

They reached their destination, and as predicted, dozens of paparazzi were waiting outside.

Inessa and Vladimir emerged from their car ahead, and walked down a sort of red carpet, stopping to be photographed along the way.

“I keep forgetting that your parents are famous too.” Yuuri watched Inessa put on her mask and turn around, letting the photographers take pictures the back of her dress.

“Yes, they are,” Victor said, his expression blank.

Yuuri squeezed his hand. Victor turned to look at him, his smile thawing the ice in his gaze just a little. 

Victor sighed, putting his mask to his face and starting to tie it. 

“Here, let me,” Yuuri said, taking the ribbons from his hands. He tied it securely, letting his fingers brush against Victor’s neck, reveling in Victor’s resulting shiver.

Victor turned around, his eyes a deep azure against the maroon and gold filigree. 

“My turn,” he said, voice soft. Yuuri held out his mask, turning his back to Victor. 

As he tied the mask, Victor leaned down to brush his lips against Yuuri’s neck, and Yuuri’s eyes fluttered closed. 

“Do we have to go in?” he asked, his voice breathy.

Victor chuckled, turning him around. “I want to show you off a little.” He leaned in to kiss Yuuri’s cheek, a soft, dry kiss. 

Their car slid to a stop, the driver hopping out and running around to their door to open it. 

“Ready?” Victor asked.

“Ready,” Yuuri said, with more conviction than he felt. Victor smiled and got out of the car, waving as dozens of bulbs flashed.

Yuuri followed, immediately seeking out Victor’s hand. 

Though he was wearing a mask and an expensively-cut tux, suddenly Yuuri felt exposed. Victor smiled and waved, holding fast to Yuuri’s hand as they walked down the red carpet, stopping every once in a while so that photographers could take pictures.

“Yuuri! Victor! Over here!” 

“Victor, are you going to coach Yuuri at Worlds even though you’re competing?" 

“Yuuri, are you going to finish your degree?”

“Victor are you going to get a fifth World Championship?”

“Do you have a bet going about who will win worlds?” 

Victor laughed at that question, pausing at the reporter who shouted it. “Hmm, what do you think, should we Yuuri? What should we bet?” 

“Uh, um. I don’t know?”

Victor beamed his media smile, and the reporter looked like she was going to faint. 

“Let’s make a bet that whoever wins Worlds doesn’t have to do the dishes for a month.” 

“That’s boring,” Yuuri said without thinking. 

The reporters and photographers around them laughed uproariously, as if that were the funniest joke they’d ever heard. 

Victor fake-pouted. “What do you want to bet then?” 

Yuuri cocked his head, contemplating for a moment. He leaned in to Victor, whispering directly into his ear so that no one else could hear. “If I win, you have to wear my gold medal while I fuck you.” 

Victor flushed deeply, so much so that it was easily visible.

“What did he say?” the reporter asked.

“I…um. He. It…” Victor stuttered, his eyes still focused on Yuuri. 

“Uh oh, I think I broke him. Better get him inside and get a drink or two in his system.” Yuuri smiled, tugging Victor toward the entrance. 

“I can’t believe you said that!” Victor hissed once they entered the hallway. 

“No one heard me,” Yuuri said, smirking. He stopped to the side of the throng of people, slipping his hands around Victor’s waist. “So. Is it a bet?” 

Victor gulped. “And what do I get if I win, then?”

Yuuri simply cocked his eyebrow.

“Oh. _Ohhhhhhhh_.” Victor flushed deeply again.

“Yeah, just think about that for a bit.” Yuuri took his hand, leading him with the flow of people toward the ball.

After checking their coats, they walked into the enormous ballroom, which had a latticed glass ceiling, and was decorated with colorful lights and thousands of flowers along the walls. There were hundreds of people inside already, all dressed extravagantly and all sporting glittering masks. Dotted around the room were several bars as well as a long buffet table.

Inessa was nearby, waiting in line for drinks with another woman.

Victor led Yuuri over to her. “Hi, Mama.”

She kissed his cheek. “How was the gauntlet?”

“Not bad.” 

"What do you want to drink?" she asked.

“We should eat some food before we drink, I think,” Yuuri pointed out.

Victor sighed. “Ah, Yuuri, always so responsible. Well, most of the time, anyway.” He winked.

“Was that a reference to the Grand Prix Banquet? Because if I recall correctly, you weren’t exactly in great shape yourself.”

“That was the night you got married, wasn’t it?” Inessa’s eyes glittered. “I would ask you what happened, but I’m assuming you still don’t remember any of it?” 

“No.” Yuuri shook his head, glad that the mask could at least partially cover his blush. 

Victor coughed, but didn’t respond. Yuuri narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Where’s Papa?” Victor asked, changing the subject.

“Already talking to some potential sponsor for the team.” Inessa waived her mask, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been instructed to get him a scotch.” 

“Okay, I guess we are going to get some food. Want anything, Mama?”

“No, darling, I ate before we left, thank you. We’ll find you later.” Inessa turned back to the woman she’d been chatting with.

Yuuri and Victor loaded their plates with all kinds of food (Yuuri decided to let himself cheat on his diet, just this once) and sat down at a table. 

“Vitya!” Yuuri looked up to see a dark-haired woman in a cascading, rose pink tulle gown approaching them. A blond woman in a dark green dress trailed in her wake, and they both held gold masks with gigantic feathers. 

“Боже мой, Эмма!”[16] Victor exclaimed, standing up. “I didn’t know you’d be here!” he said, switching to English. 

“It was last minute, we decided to stay here instead of going to Bali. I’d rather be at the beach, but…”

Victor turned to Yuuri. “Yuuri, this is my friend from childhood, Emma. Emma, my husband Yuuri.” 

Emma smiled, her gold eyeshadow glinting in the light. Her eyes were like liquid honey. “So good to meet you. This is my wife, Giselle.”

Giselle—the blond woman in the dark green gown—curtsied at them. Yuuri wasn’t sure what to do, so he bowed. 

“She doesn’t know much English. Russian and French, yes,” Emma explained. 

“Oh. Sorry, I don’t know either of those. I really need to learn Russian, though, because _someone_ keeps speaking it when I’m around and I never understand what he’s saying.” Yuuri elbowed Victor playfully. 

Victor laughed, his nose turning pink.

Emma looked back and forth between them, smiling. “Vitya, I want to introduce you to a few of my friends from Paris. Yuuri, can I steal your husband for a moment?" 

“Of—of course,” Yuuri stuttered.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Victor said, though he looked reluctant.

“I need to eat something anyway.” Yuuri smiled at him, giving him a little nudge. “Go ahead.” 

Emma smiled again, linking her arm with Victor’s. “He’s gorgeous, Vitya,” she said, leading him away. “Well done.” 

Yuuri sat down, feeling a bit out of place, but he busied himself with eating.

After a couple of minutes Inessa walked over, holding two glasses of champagne. 

“So he’s abandoned you already?” she asked, nodding toward Victor as she handed him one of the glasses.

Yuuri laughed, taking a small sip from the glass. “I’m never surprised anymore by how many people want to talk to Victor.”

Inessa hummed. Victor, who was surrounded by a crowd of people, titled his head back and laughed generously at something Giselle said. 

Yuuri chewed his lip. “Can I ask you something?” he asked, cautiously. 

“Anything, darling,” Inessa said. 

“What happened between Victor and his dad? Why are they so…" 

“Frosty?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Inessa sighed. “That is a very long story.” 

“I have time.” 

Inessa sipped from her glass, licking her lips before speaking. “I don’t know if Victor ever told you this, but he started out playing hockey, not figure skating.” 

Yuuri blinked at her. If he had been expecting her to say anything, it hadn’t been that. “He…what?” 

Inessa nodded, her eyes flicking back to her son. Yuuri tried to imagine his long, lithe form strapped into pads and bulbous hockey skates, crashing into other players, teeth gritted.

“His father taught him when he was very small. Victor has always loved the ice. His father wanted to make him into a Soviet hockey legend, just like he had been.”

“But?”

“But Victor didn’t see the ice as a battlefield like his father did. Instead, he saw the beauty in it, the same beauty I saw in the dance floor. He kept playing hockey because he knew it was what Volodya wanted, and he wanted nothing more than his father’s love.” 

She looked at Yuuri, her brown eyes reflecting the light of the dance floor. “I’m sure you know by now, the thing that Victor desires most in this world is to be loved. By everyone, but by those close to him most of all.”

Yuuri nodded, taking another long sip of his champagne. If there was one thing he did know about Victor, it was that. 

“One day, when he was still very young, Victor waited until his father had left, then came to the kitchen table and took my hand. He was trembling, terrified, and I thought he was going to tell me something horrible. Instead, he asked me if he could figure skate. He was afraid that his father would find out, so he did it on top of hockey, never missing a practice of either. After only a year, I could tell that Victor’s heart was in figure skating, not hockey. I pulled him out of school, got him tutors so that he could devote himself to skating. Watching him skate…I just knew that this was what he was destined to do. He always had a natural grace on the ice. Then Vitya was offered a place at the training center in St. Petersburg, and he had to choose. When his father found out…” she sighed looking down into her glass.

“He was angry?” 

“Outwardly, yes. But I think the thing that broke both their hearts was that they couldn’t share the one thing they each loved most with the other.” 

She looked over at Victor again. “You know, Volodya still watches him skate, when he’s in Russia. He never tells Victor.”

Yuuri snapped to look at her, and back at Victor. “But he told me—”

“That his father doesn’t care about him or his skating?” Inessa huffed. “I think you know by now, Nikiforov men are notoriously stubborn. He didn’t want Victor to know, but he’s very proud of him.”

Yuuri watched Victor for a long moment, wondering… 

“Is there something else, cheri?” 

“Um.” 

Inessa raised her eyebrows at him. 

“What happened earlier tonight?” Yuuri asked.

“When?”

“When Vladimir said something in Russian, Victor…” he swallowed, remembering the look in Victor’s eyes. It was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Inessa sucked a breath in between her teeth. “Volodya said something he shouldn’t have. He knew better.”

“But—” 

“It’s not my story to tell.” She placed a hand on his arm, squeezing it a little.

Victor laughed once more, then kissed Emma on the cheek before sauntering over to the two of them.

“Mama,” Victor said, bowing at her.

Inessa giggled, pressing the back of the hand holding her glass to her lips.

Victor turned to Yuuri, bowing deeply and extending his hand. “Sir, may I have this dance?”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows, but Victor stayed in the bow, waggling his eyebrows.

“I think you’d better go,” Inessa said out of the corner of her mouth. “He looks like a man on a mission. I’ll go find Volodya.” 

Yuuri took Victor’s hand, letting himself be led toward the dance floor. “Alright, but only because I’m worried about your back. It must hurt when you bow like that.”

“When is the whole ‘making fun of my age’ thing going to get old?” Victor pouted. 

“Hmmm. Never.” 

The orchestra was playing a [waltz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXgk8eNayU8), and Victor immediately swept him into the dance. 

Yuuri kept pace with him, following the intricate steps of the waltz easily.

“Have you ballroom danced before?” Victor asked.

“I took a few classes. I was supposed to find something other than ballet to balance out my skating.”

“Ballet, ballroom, pole dancing…what other hidden talents are you hiding up your sleeve, Mr. Katsuki?” Victor’s grinned.

Yuuri stumbled, but recovered quickly. “Pole—what? How did—how did you know about that?” 

“Ummmm. I think Phichit told me about it? I’m not sure.” Victor looked over his shoulder, and Yuuri got the distinct impression that he was trying to avoid Yuuri’s eyes.

They twirled among the other partygoers, Yuuri letting the world of glittering lights and colorful masks whirl around him. The texture of Victor’s jacket beneath his fingers, his glinting eyes behind his mask… it almost felt like a fairytale. 

“How did you know Emma?” Yuuri asked after a few turns around the floor. 

“She was a childhood friend. She was actually my first kiss,” Victor said, chuckling. 

“She was? But…” Yuuri glanced over to Emma and Giselle, who were waltzing nearby. 

“We were seven. We did it, and then we both looked at each other and said, ‘yeah, nope. Not into the opposite sex whatsoever,’ and we were best friends after that. Until I left for St. Petersburg, that is.”

Yuuri laughed. “Oh my god, that’s so funny.” 

The music shifted into [a new piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wcYwFCNFEo8), and Victor slowed, matching the tempo. 

“This one sounds familiar…” Yuuri said. “What is it?” 

“I knew you, I walked with you once upon a dream,” Victor sang as they danced.

“Ohhh, Sleeping Beauty,” Yuuri said. 

Victor nodded. “Inessa danced the lead in this once. In London.” 

“Of course she did.” 

Victor pulled him a little closer, pressing his cheek to Yuuri’s. 

Yuuri closed his eyes, trusting Victor to lead him gracefully across the dance floor. “It almost feels like we are on the ice,” he murmured.

“Except I can’t dance in your arms on the ice.”

“I wish you could.” 

Victor leaned back a little, so that he could see Yuuri’s eyes.

“Oh, what a marvelous idea!”

“What?”

“What if we did a pair skate?”

“I hate to break it to you, but we can’t switch to pair skating in the middle of the season.”

“No no, for our exhibition skate. At Worlds!” Victor’s eyes were glittering with excitement. 

“Oh,” Yuuri blinked. “Would they let us do that?”

“The gold medalist gets a lot of leeway, and besides, what are they going to do about it? It’s just the exhibition skate.” Victor looked gleeful. “This is going to be so much fun!” 

“You’re assuming one of us will be the gold medalist,” Yuuri pointed out. 

Victor snorted. “Of course one of us will be.” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Victor’s smile was brilliant. “Fantastic! Now we just have to choose a song.”

“How about this one?” 

“No, everyone does this. Hmmm. I’ll have to think.” 

The song changed again, to something much faster, and Victor led them to the edge of the dance floor, next to a large floral planter. “Drink?” he asked.

“Champagne,” Yuuri said. “Water, too.”

“Wait here, I’ll go get it.”

Victor disappeared into the crowd, and Yuuri leaned back against the planter, trying to catch his breath. 

“So you are the one who has stolen Victor’s heart.”

Yuuri tensed, turning around. Vladimir was standing in front of him, holding a large glass of scotch, looking at him appraisingly. 

“I…” Yuuri didn’t really know how to answer that.

“Inessa seems to like you.” He tilted his head to the side.

“Um. Thank you?”

Vladimir stepped a little closer to him, his gaze never leaving Yuuri’s. The silence was long and uncomfortable. 

“There are very few things in this world more fragile than Vitya’s heart,” Vladimir said eventually.

Yuuri blinked at him, stunned. That was the last thing he had expected him to say.

“You can tell a lot from someone’s eyes, Katsuki. Look me in the eye and tell me your intentions.”

“My…intentions?”

“With Victor.”

Yuuri opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. “I…we’re…married.” 

Vladimir made a dismissive noise. “That’s not what I mean. What are your _intentions_?” 

He hadn’t exactly been expecting this—not from Victor’s father, especially not considering how many boyfriends and lovers Victor had had. 

Yuuri stared up into those eyes, eyes that were so like Victor’s, but so different. The steel behind them was completely at odds with the softness in Victor’s. 

He swallowed, standing up straighter. “I love Victor. I would _never_ hurt him.”

Vladimir stared at him for a second longer, then stepped back, the ice in his gaze softening ever so slightly.

“You really are nothing like him. That’s good.” 

Then he turned and left, leaving Yuuri stunned, heart pounding. 

 _Nothing like…him? Who was he talking about?_  

Victor appeared at his elbow, handing him a flute of champagne and a glass of water.

“Thanks.” Yuuri said, gulping down the water.

“Everything okay?” 

“Fine,” Yuuri said, trying not to watch the retreating form of Vladimir Nikiforov, who had essentially just given him the _“you break my son’s heart, I break you”_ talk.

 

 

* * *

They drank and danced for hours, and Yuuri was healthily buzzed as midnight approached, but not overly so. Everyone was gathering into groups, getting ready for the last moments of the year to wind down.

“Come with me,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s ear, taking his hand and leading him through the crowd to the edge of the room.

He pulled Yuuri down a hallway, the music and laughter of the party fading in the background. They walked up two flights of stairs, and down another long corridor. 

“Where are we going?” Yuuri whispered, glancing over his shoulder. “Are we allowed back here?” 

“No one said we aren’t. I want to show you something.” 

“It’s not your dick, is it? Because I’ve seen that,” Yuuri joked. 

Victor turned a corner, throwing him a shocked look. “Yuuri, we are in _public_.” 

Yuuri laughed, following him to some large doors.

“Okay, close your eyes,” Victor said.

Yuuri gave him a dubious look, but he obeyed.

Victor took him by the hand, leading him through the doors. They walked a few steps and stopped. 

“Wait here,” Victor said, releasing his hand. A few seconds later, blast of cold wind hit Yuuri, making him shiver.

He started to peek but Victor hissed, “Keep them closed!”

“Is your plan to freeze me to death?”

“Oh you’ll be fine,” Victor said jovially.

Victor walked behind him, turning his shoulders so that he was facing another direction.

Yuuri could hear running water, like a fountain, and the winter wind over the distant ambient noise of the city.

“Okay,” Victor whispered into his ear. “Open your eyes.”

Yuuri blinked his eyes open and gasped.

They were on a balcony, which had been converted into a sort of greenhouse or grotto, with thousands of fairy lights strung up among the lush green plants. 

There were large floor-to-ceiling French doors in front of them, which Victor had opened to reveal the Kremlin directly in front of them. 

“Victor, this is beautiful,” Yuuri breathed.

He craned his neck, looking upward at the dazzling lights among the fauna, gorgeous against the dark night beyond the glass ceiling. 

Victor moved next to him. “You like it?”

“It’s gorgeous,” Yuuri said, taking his hand again. “How did you find this place?”

Victor shrugged. “I was bored a couple of years ago during the ball, so I went exploring.” He checked his watch. “Twenty seconds to midnight.”

“Do…um. Do we kiss when the clock strikes twelve?” 

Victor laughed. “No. The tradition in Russia is to make a wish at midnight, and drink the champagne.” 

“Oh.” Yuuri looked down at his glass. He’d been looking forward to kissing Victor at midnight.

“Ready?” Victor asked, holding up his glass. “Ten, nine, eight…”

Yuuri held his glass up too as they counted down together. 

When the clock struck twelve, Yuuri clinked his glass against Victor’s and drank, thinking with all his heart: _I wish that Victor loved me back. I wish that when I tell him I love him, he’ll say it too. Please._

Then, fireworks started shooting off by the Kremlin.

“Oh wow!” Yuuri exclaimed.

“I brought you up because it’s the perfect spot to watch the fireworks.” Victor smiled. 

Yuuri grinned back, taking his hand as they watched the display. There were huge gold bursts, green and red, glittering over the Kremlin like fairy dust.

After a few minutes, Yuuri turned to look at Victor, who was watching with an awed expression, almost like a child.

“What did you wish for? For the new year? If it’s not a jinx to tell me,” Yuuri asked softly.

Victor looked at him, hair falling into his eyes. “You,” he said simply.

“Me?” Yuuri reached out to brush his hair away. “You already have me.” 

Victor hummed. “For you to stay with me, always.” Victor’s expression was so honest, so open. The creeping doubt was so much harder to hold on to when he looked at Yuuri like that. 

“You…wished for that?” 

“Of course. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Yuuri felt like the breath was punched out of him. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s true.” 

“I’m not five Grand Prix Gold medals. And four World Championship titles.” 

“You’re right. You’re better.” Victor rubbed Yuuri’s ring on his finger, and Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat. 

Yuuri felt the last of his defenses falling away, bit by bit. “How?”

“You brought me back from the emptiness, the loneliness I’d been lost in for years.”

Yuuri watched him for a moment, trying to discern whether Victor was telling the truth, but his eyes were dark and unreadable; Yuuri could only see the bursting fireworks in them.

And then…Victor smiled. The smile that no one else got to see, the one that he didn’t use for the media. His true smile.

Suddenly, Yuuri realized: Victor wasn’t just in this for the sex.

Yuuri’s chest felt like it was going to cave in.

Victor’s media mask was stripped away. He’d let Yuuri in, let him see who he truly was. How many people in the world could say that?

Yuuri gulped. “I know it’s not your tradition, but can I kiss you now?”

Victor nodded, squeezing his hand. Yuuri took their champagne glasses, putting them on the ground, and slid his hands around Victor’s waist. Their lips met, the kiss sweet, and soft, and exactly what Yuuri wanted. 

The crackling bursts of the fireworks in the background, the trickling fountain, the air on their faces, the twinkling lights, Victor’s body pressed against his own…it all felt like a dream. The kind of dream Yuuri didn’t ever want to wake up from.

Yuuri kissed him once more, then leaned back to look at him. 

Victor opened his eyes slowly, his eyes filled with such tenderness that Yuuri’s heart pounded even harder in his chest. 

 _Tell him you love him,_ a voice said in his head. _Maybe he’ll say it back._

 _I can’t, I can’t,_ he thought. _I’m too scared._

 _You can only know if you try._  

He opened his mouth to say it, but the words stuck in his throat. 

Swallowing, knowing it was cowardice, Yuuri cupped Victor’s face with both hands, leaned forward and kissed him again, the fireworks slowly dying behind them in the distance. 

_I’ll say it. Just not yet._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Translations:
> 
> [1] Солнышко = my sun
> 
> [2] Пожалуйста, не надо. Прости меня = “Please, don’t. I’m sorry…”
> 
> [3] Пожалуйста, пожалуйста, прости меня = “Please, please forgive me.”
> 
> [4] Нет, не надо, Алекс, пожалуйста... Не надо... = “No, don’t…stop. Please, Alex…” “Stop…”
> 
> [5] Котёнок = “kitten”
> 
> [6] Виктор, я ваша огромная поклонница! Можно автограф? = “Victor, I’m a huge fan of yours! Can I have an autograph?”
> 
> [7] Конечно = “Of course.”
> 
> [8] Как вас зовут? = “What’s your name?”
> 
> [9] Мне очень жаль, но нам нужно идти. Спасибо вам всем за поддержку! = “I’m sorry, but we have to get going. Thank you all for your support.”
> 
> [10] мой милый = “my darling”
> 
> [11] Спасибо = “thank you”
> 
> [12] Пряники = Pryaniki (Russian Gingerbread)
> 
> [13] Он совсем не похож на Алексея = “He’s nothing like Alexei.”
> 
> [14] Естественно, нет = “Of course he’s not”
> 
> [15] Я имел ввиду, в хорошем смысле = “I meant it in a good way”
> 
> [16] Боже мой, Эмма! = “Oh my god, Emma!”
> 
> 2\. I’ve created a spotify playlist for ESBS, with all the songs that have featured in this fic so far, as well as some songs that fit the general theme of the fic. You can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/astudyinroses/playlist/2LBJHC1OKa2OSPa8hsYpdT).
> 
> 3\. The lullaby Yuuri sings to Victor is a traditional lullaby that originates in Kyushu, the region of Japan Yuuri is from.
> 
> 4\. There really is a market and ice skating in Red Square around New Year's, which looks like this:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> 5\. [This](https://www.sothebysrealty.com/eng/rentals/detail/180-l-881-7qrwz3/the-apartment-in-a-skyscraper-on-kotelnicheskaya-embankment-moscow-mc/propertycarousel-tab-0-pg-1-pp-4) is what Inessa’s apartment looks like, though the hallways aren’t red and the bedrooms are bigger in my imagination. 
> 
> 6\. The ball in this chapter is based off of a real ball in Moscow that takes place on New Year's Eve, though it's not a Masquerade. Here's what it looks like inside:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> 7\. Visual aids for the ball outfits! Victor’s tuxedo looks like this:
> 
>  
> 
> Yuuri’s tux looks like this:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Inessa’s dress looks like this:
> 
>  


	13. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor tells Yuuri the truth about someone from his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a little bit heavy. I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable with the subject matter, so see the note at the end of the chapter for warnings (I put it at the end to avoid spoilers). If you have questions about whether or not the chapter will be triggering for you, feel free to send me a private message on tumblr (victuuriplease) and I’ll let you know more details about the content.
> 
> Longhornletters and rogovich are the best humans.

 

Yuuri woke up wrapped in Victor’s arms, their legs tangled together. His head was resting on Victor’s chest, so he could feel Victor move as he breathed, his heartbeat against Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri sighed, contentment spreading through him as he let himself drift off a bit longer. If there was one day he could afford to sleep in a bit, it was New Year’s day.

When Yuuri woke again, hours must have passed, judging by how high the sun had climbed in the sky. He leaned back to watch Victor’s sleeping face, careful not to wake him.

At this point, Yuuri had woken up next to Victor dozens of times. Somehow, though, it never ceased to make his heart beat a little faster—watching the silvery eyelashes flutter over pale cheeks, the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed.

Victor shifted a little in his sleep, enough that Yuuri could feel his morning erection against his hip. Yuuri bit his lip, shifting his own hips slightly. They’d fallen asleep the night before after kissing languidly, but it had gone no further, jetlag having gotten the best of them.

“Yuuri,” Victor mumbled in his sleep.

“I’m right here.” Yuuri leaned in, pressing their lips together. It was meant to be a simple kiss, but Victor leaned into it, deepening it.

Yuuri kissed back slowly, sleepily; it was sloppy, and imperfect, and beautiful.

“Am I dreaming?” Victor whispered against Yuuri’s lips.

“Not unless we both are,” Yuuri whispered back.

Victor’s eyes blinked open. He looked at Yuuri with naked tenderness, verging on wonder. Once again, Yuuri felt something new and wonderful starting to bloom deep in his chest.

He smiled, leaning in to press their lips together again. They kissed slowly, without hurry or agenda, the way only sleepy morning kisses could be.

Then Victor rolled his hips a little more. Yuuri exhaled, his head falling back as their cocks brushed against each other through their pyjama pants. Victor kissed down his neck, continuing to roll against him, grinding their hips against each other.

Victor made a noise in his throat as Yuuri slid his hands into Victor’s hair and pulled him into a kiss again, wondering if they could wait to emerge from their room just a bit longer...

“Victor! Yuuri!” Inessa called from the hallway. Victor broke the kiss, looking a bit stunned.

“Time for breakfast and presents. I’ve already let you sleep in—or whatever it is you’re doing—for far too long! Up and at it!”

Yuuri had to press his forehead to Victor’s neck to stop himself from laughing.

Victor cleared his throat. “We will be out in a few minutes, Mama,” he called out. “We...er. We just woke up.”

“Okay, darling, don’t take too long,” she called back. Her footsteps faded off down the hallway.

“Why are you laughing?” Victor hissed at him.

Yuuri raised his head, letting out a little snort again at Victor’s chagrined expression. “It’s just funny, getting caught making out in your room as if we’re teenagers. Something I never got to experience.”

“Hmph.” 

Victor leaned in to kiss him again, but Yuuri poked his chest and shook his head, holding him a few inches away. “C’mon, we better take a cold shower.”

“But Yuuuuuri,” Victor pouted.

“Don’t you want to give your parents their presents?”

“Oh right, presents!” Victor jumped out of bed, looking delighted.

Yuuri laughed. “Do your parents really get you that many gifts?”

“No, I’m excited for the gift I got _you_ ,” he winked, dropping his pants as he walked toward the bathroom.

Yuuri swung his legs out of bed and followed him. “What? Victor, we already exchanged gifts, that’s not fair.”

Victor rolled his eyes as he turned the water on. “You didn’t have to get me anything else. It’s just a little thing I did yesterday.”

“I still would have gotten you something if I’d known.” Yuuri crossed his arms, miffed.

Victor shook his head. “You’ve already given me the best gift I could imagine.” He moved into Yuuri’s space, cupping his cheek.

Yuuri’s heart tugged in his chest. He wanted to say something sarcastic, deflect the compliment with a joke, but after everything in the past few days…he just couldn’t.

 _I love you,_ he thought, looking up into Victor’s eyes. _I love you so much it feels like my body is too small for it. I can’t keep it inside of me anymore._

“You don’t have to give me more gifts either, you know,” he said softly. “For the same reason.”

Victor beamed, his true smile showing through. He leaned down to kiss Yuuri again, sliding his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth, pressing their bodies together. Yuuri felt the blood starting to rush out of his head.

“You better get in the shower before we get too distracted,” Yuuri mumbled against his lips.

“You should join me,” Victor said.

“Tempting, but completely against the point.” Yuuri kissed him once more before making himself step back.

Victor sighed. “Fine. Be out in a minute.” He stepped into the shower, turning his back to Yuuri as he wet his hair.

Yuuri bit his bottom lip, forcing his gaze away from Victor’s ass and going over to the sink to brush his teeth.

 

 

* * *

After they’d showered and made themselves presentable, Yuuri and Victor walked down the hall to the living room. Inessa was sitting on the couch in a luxurious-looking robe, drinking coffee.

“Good morning, sleepyheads.” Inessa grinned at them.

“Happy New Year, Mama,” Victor said, kissing her cheek.

They had put their presents under the tree the night before, but there was a new one Yuuri hadn’t noticed before: a large, flat, package towards the back of the tree, tagged simply with _Yuuri <3._ 

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at Victor, who just shrugged innocently.

“Would you like some coffee?” Vladimir called out from the kitchen. 

“I’ll have some. Yuuri only takes tea in the morning,” Victor said before Yuuri could answer.

“Black tea alright?” Vladimir asked Yuuri directly. The hard edge to his gaze was almost gone now, but there was still a touch of wariness to it.

“That’s perfect, thank you.” Yuuri sat down on the couch next to Inessa. 

“Did you sleep alright?” Inessa asked, sipping from her cup. 

“Very well, thank you,” Yuuri said. 

“I’m so glad. I want you to be comfortable here, to feel like part of our family.” She put her hand over Yuuri’s, squeezing it gently.

Yuuri felt his heart swell a little. “Thank you, Inessa.”

She smiled at him warmly.

“Who should go first?” Victor sat down on the floor cross-legged, his eyes bright.

“I want to give Inessa her gift first,” Yuuri said. He walked over to the tree and picked up the box that held the glass ornament, holding it out to Inessa as he sat down next to her again.

Inessa put down her cup and accepted the gift. She opened the gold paper slowly, making sure not to tear it, revealing the smooth blue velvet box.

“Oooh,” Inessa cooed. “How pretty.”

“The box isn’t the gift, Mama,” Victor said, rolling his eyes.

She shot him a glare, then opened the box.

For a long moment, she just stared down at the ornament. Yuuri’s heart started pounding. _Does she not like it? Was it too much?_

“Что там?”[1] Vladimir asked from the kitchen.

"Елочная игрушка — балерина.” Inessa smiled at Yuuri, her dark eyes glistening a little. “Точно такая же как та, что Витя разбил много лет назад.”[2]

Yuuri looked back and forth between them.“Do...you like it?”

Inessa hugged him tightly. “I love it, котёнок.[3] I can’t believe you found one so much like the old one. How did you know?” she asked.

Yuuri smiled.“Victor told me about it.”

She sniffled, wiping her eyes as she released him.

“Can I see it?” Victor reached out. 

Inessa snatched up the box and walked away, shaking her head. “We don’t want history to repeat itself, I don’t think.” She put it up on the mantel, far out of harm’s way.

“I was five years old, you’re being ridiculous.” 

“Better safe than sorry,” Inessa said in sing-song. “Anyway, I want to give our gift to the two of you now.” 

“You didn’t have to get us anything—“ Yuuri said quickly.

“Of course I did, don’t be silly.” Inessa plucked an envelope from where it was tucked between two branches of the tree. 

Victor held out his hand, but Inessa clutched it to her chest. “Go sit next to Yuuri on the couch, you have to open it together,” she said, eyes twinkling with excitement. 

Victor rolled his eyes, but he obliged, sitting down on the couch and pulling Yuuri onto his lap. Inessa handed Yuuri the envelope, grinning from ear to ear. 

It was a plain letter envelope with _Yuuri and Victor_ written on the front in looping script.  

“Go ahead.” Victor put his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri turned the envelope over, using his fingernail to rip it open. He pulled out the sheets of paper within, skimmed the first few lines of the page. His mouth dropped open. “Inessa…” he trailed off, overwhelmed.

“Wow, Mama. This is wonderful,” Victor said, reading over his shoulder.

“We thought you deserved an actual honeymoon,” Inessa explained. “You had to keep training right after your wedding, after all. The reservation is for a few weeks after Worlds, so you’ll be able to relax.It’s a very private resort on the coast of Puerto Vallarta, renowned for its discretion. You’ll have your own house, so you will be able to enjoy yourselves without worrying about being bothered by anyone, including the paparazzi.”

“We went there once,” Vladimir said, bringing their tea and coffee over. “It’s nice.” 

Yuuri felt tears starting to well in his eyes, blurring the words on the page. It was such a thoughtful gift, but even a few days ago it would have been painful to receive a honeymoon trip, given what he’d thought about his relationship with Victor. Now, for the first time since they’d gotten married, Yuuri dared to imagine a future with him…swimming in the warm ocean with him, lying in the sand with him, soaking up the sun. Spending long nights making love to him, and falling asleep listening to waves crashing in the distance. Going back to St. Petersburg together afterward to start building a life together.

He got up from his seat and hugged Inessa tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling a little.

“You’re welcome,” Inessa said, squeezing him back. 

“Thank you, Mama,” Victor hugged her too, once Yuuri released her. 

Yuuri extended his hand to Vladimir. “Thank you,” he said. “This is a wonderful gift.”

Vladimir met his eye, taking his hand.

“I hope you enjoy the trip,” he said gruffly, holding Yuuri’s gaze for a second longer. _You better not hurt him,_ Vladimir’s eyes said.

Yuuri lifted his chin just a bit. “I will,” he replied out loud. _Never,_ he said with his gaze.

Vladimir nodded once, releasing Yuuri’s hand. He sat down on the chair nearest the tree, acting as if the exchange had never taken place. 

Victor gave his parents their other gifts—a painted fan for Inessa, mochi for Vladimir, and kimonos for both of them—and Yuuri gave Vladimir the gingerbread. Eventually there was only one present left: the large flat one. 

“Okay, time for the big present!” Victor bounced over to the tree, picking it up and bringing it to Yuuri. The excitement in his eyes was infectious. Yuuri felt his hands trembling a little as he opened the red paper.

It was a picture frame, as he’d expected; but he never would have guessed what it contained. 

It was a dozen or so photos of him and Victor, pasted together in a sort of collage: the photo of them in front of Hasetsu Castle; a selfie they’d taken on the ice in St. Petersburg; a photo of them hugging after Yuuri won gold at Nationals; the two of them holding hands underneath the dome in the Cathedral. And at the center of them all, the kiss they’d shared at Russian Nationals, cropped so that they were the only ones in the frame. 

Yuuri felt his eyes filling for the second time that day. He looked up at Victor, the tears escaping the corners of his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

“Is it too much?” There was apprehension in Victor’s expression, as well as hopefulness. But most of all, that tender look was there; the one Yuuri was scared to name.

“No, no it’s not too much. I love…” He glanced over at Inessa, who was perched on the arm of Vladimir’s chair, watching them with misty eyes. “I love it.”

Victor beamed. “I was thinking we can put it up on the wall in our home. Maybe in the living room.” 

“Our home,” Yuuri repeated. _Home._ Victor hadn’t called it ‘my apartment,’ nor ‘the apartment in St. Petersburg.’ He’d called it their _home._

The last remaining doubts about how Victor felt about him whisked away like a whisper on the winter wind. 

Victor’s smile faltered. “I mean, the apartment in St. Petersburg. I…I want it to feel like your home. If you don’t like that apartment, we can get another one, I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking about that, I know you—” 

“Victor,” Yuuri interrupted his babbling. “I’d love to put this up on the wall at home.”

Victor pressed his lips together, his cobalt eyes brimming over with emotion. 

Yuuri wanted badly to kiss him, but held himself back, not knowing whether it would be alright to do so in front of Inessa and Vladimir.

“Come Volodya, let’s get the meal started,” Inessa said, standing up.

“Do you need help?” Yuuri asked, tearing his gaze away from Victor with difficulty. 

“No darling, you just sip your tea and relax here,” Inessa said over her shoulder, Vladimir in her wake.

Once they were around the corner, Yuuri clenched his fist in the front of Victor’s shirt, pulling him forward into a smoldering kiss. 

Victor made a noise of surprise, but then he leaned into it, sliding his hand around Yuuri’s waist. 

They broke apart, their lips making a smacking sound. 

“What was that for?” Victor’s breaths were uneven, his nose flushed.

Yuuri bit his lip. _I love that you did this for me. I love that you want me to stay. I love our life together. I want you to be my home, wherever we are, wherever we may go._

He wanted to say it, he wanted so badly to say it out loud. But his heart was pounding, his hands sweating. Even though he no longer doubted Victor’s feelings, saying those three words still felt too monumental. 

“I just can’t believe you sometimes,” he said out loud. “You never cease to surprise me.” 

Victor smiled, his eyes lidded, and Yuuri pulled him into another lingering kiss.

 

 

* * *

They had a leisurely lunch, Victor sitting next to him with his hand on Yuuri’s leg. As always, Victor was animated, telling stories of their travels. At one point Yuuri put his hand over Victor’s, entwining their fingers. Inessa looked at them fondly throughout the meal, smiling and telling tales of her own. Though Vladimir was more reserved, saying little, he actually laughed at one or two things Yuuri said, which he counted as a win.

“Okay, I need to watch tape now,” Vladimir said, standing up and picking up several plates, taking them to the kitchen.

“Tape?”

“Of the opposing team they’re playing in a couple of days,” Inessa explained. “He watches tape for hours and hours every single day. It’s very boring.”

“Only if you not know what you are looking at,” Vladimir called out from down the hall as he walked toward the office.

Inessa rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her glass again. 

Yuuri realized that for once, he had nothing to do; usually, he would head to the rink or gym for the afternoon, but Victor had insisted that they take a day off. He didn’t feel much like training anyway, not after all the champagne the night before. 

“What should we do this afternoon?” he asked, stretching his arms up over his head.

“I don’t know about you two, but it’s time for me to make Vitya’s favorite dessert. It’s our family New Year’s tradition.” Inessa picked up some dirty plates, rising from the table. 

“Oh? I don’t think I know what your favorite dessert is,” Yuuri cocked an eyebrow at Victor.

“Mille-Feuille,” Inessa said in a French accent. “Some people call them Napoleons. I learned how to make them when I lived in Paris. Victor has always loved them.”

“Would you like some help?” Yuuri picked up his and Victor’s plates, following her into the kitchen. 

Inessa cocked her head, considering. “Well, actually, that would be lovely.”

Victor cleared the rest of the dishes. “Want me to do the dishes, Mama?” he asked. 

“No, I’ll do them later. Might as well do them after we finish baking.”

“Okay. I have some research to do, so I’ll leave you two to it.” Victor washed his hands, wiping them on a dish towel.

“What kind of research?” Yuuri asked.

“You’ll see,” Victor said, eyes twinkling.He kissed Yuuri on the forehead and swept off down the hall toward his room. 

“He always has so much energy,” Inessa said, shaking her head fondly.

“I’ll say.” Yuuri rolled up his sleeves a little. “Okay, what first?”

“I already made the pastry dough and cream. So what we need to do first is roll out the dough. Will you take it out of the refrigerator for me and put it on the island?”

Yuuri pulled the dough out of the fridge as Inessa took flour and a rolling pin out of the cabinet. She dusted some over the surface of the granite countertop, swirling it around with her fingers.

Yuuri took some of the dough out of its container, placing it in the center of the dusted countertop. 

“Okay, now start rolling it out into a big rectangle.”

“You want me to do it?” 

Inessa shrugged. “You might as well learn how to do it, so you can make it for Vitya yourself someday.” she handed him the rolling pin. 

“Okay.” Yuuri took the pin.

“I’m going to get out the baking pans.”

They worked mostly in silence, Inessa giving him instructions and gently correcting him. 

“I know I said it before, but thank you again for the honeymoon,” Yuuri said, looking up from the latest batch of dough he was rolling. “It’s a beautiful gift. I’m really looking forward to going.” 

Inessa paused in cutting the dough, brushing a bit of silver hair behind her ear with the back of her hand.

“You make him so happy,” Inessa said softly. “I should be the one thanking _you_.” 

Yuuri paused, unsure what to say to that. More and more, he was starting to think that there was something about Victor’s past he didn’t know about. “He makes me just as happy,” he said slowly. 

Inessa reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

“Take care of him for me, okay?” Her gaze was still soft, but there was a layer of seriousness to it that he’d never seen before.

Yuuri nodded, putting his hand over hers. “I will. I promise.”

She smiled, and Yuuri smiled back.

“Okay, now we need to bake these,” she said, back to business. “And then the real fun begins.”

 

 

* * *

Many layers of dough and cream later, Yuuri walked back to their bedroom, exhausted andcovered in flour.

Victor was sitting on the bed with a notepad next to him, his laptop on his lap. He looked up when Yuuri walked in. 

“How was the Mille Feuille?” he asked. 

“Way more work than I could have imagined,” Yuuri admitted, rubbing his neck. “My neck hurts. From _baking_.”

Victor laughed. “Why do you think I didn’t offer to help too? Baking should be its own competitive sport.” 

“It is. Haven’t you seen _Great British Bake Off_?”

Victor cocked his head incredulously. “What is that?” 

“Okay, we are watching that someday,” Yuuri said. “How was your research?”  

“Fantastic.” 

“What were you researching, exactly?” Yuuri peeked over his shoulder at the laptop, but Victor angled it away before he could see. 

“I’ll show you tomorrow.” Victor wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Fine, be secretive. I’m going to go take a bath.” 

“Great idea,” Victor said, grinning. “I’ll be done with this by the time you’re out.” 

Yuuri walked into the bathroom, taking off his dirty clothes and throwing them in the hamper as he went. He ran the water as hot as he could stand it, slipping in some of the bath salts that Inessa had thoughtfully left out for them.

He stepped in before it was completely full, letting himself sink down into the hot water. It wasn’t exactly the onsen, but it was still a rather large tub; once the water reached the top he was nearly completely submerged. 

Yuuri turned off the water, closing his eyes as he leaned back to soak. The silence was deep, interrupted only by the dripping from the faucet, the slight shifting of water as he moved. 

He was intensely aware of the fact that Victor was just beyond the door, sitting on the bed. It was satisfying in a strange way, knowing that he was out there, that he was nearby.

He needed to tell Victor how he felt, he knew that now. The only question was when to do it. Should he just go back into the bedroom and blurt it out now? 

Yuuri snorted, imagining that conversation. _Oh hi, Victor. My bath was nice. By the way, I love you. Should we go see how the Mille Feuille turned out?_

He sighed, splashing some water over his face. He should have done it the night before, while they’d been watching the fireworks. The moment had been perfect...he’d just been too scared.

The signs were telling him that Victor felt something toward him, even if it wasn’t as deep as Yuuri’s feelings. But still, that tiny nagging voice in the back of his head held him back, made him wonder whether, if he said those three words, if Victor would say them back.

Yuuri opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, listening to droplets from the faucet plopping into the water.

“I am going to do it,” he told the ceiling. “I just have to figure out the right time.”

The walls around him were silent, impassive. 

He sighed again. _Why is this so hard?_

Yuuri soaked in the tub until the water started to go cold, washing  himself carefully. As he walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, Victor was stretching over by the window, doing a standing split. His sweatpants were hugging his ass and thighs in all the right ways.

Yuuri stopped in his tracks, looking at the long lines of Victor’s body, feeling himself flush a little. He was still staring when Victor looked over at him, his lips curling upward into a smirk.

“How was your bath?” he asked, pulling his leg a little straighter.

“Relaxing,” Yuuri said, trying to tear his gaze away from the muscles in Victor’s naked back but not quite managing it. “Maybe I should stretch too, my muscles are still so tight.”

Victor let his leg fall, walking over to him. “Let me help,” he said, putting his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, working them with dextrous fingers. 

“Oh, that feels good,” Yuuri closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. 

Victor dug his thumbs in a bit more, working up to his neck. “You _are_ tight.” 

“Ooomph.” Yuuri hung his head.

After a couple of minutes, Victor stopped abruptly, and Yuuri made a noise of protest. 

“Lie down on the bed, I’ll give you a full massage.” Victor grabbed some lotion from the dresser.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I think you need it." 

Yuuri walking over to lay face down on the bed without further protest. His glasses immediately went askew, so he took them off and put them to the side.

Victor straddled him a few seconds later, his strong hands starting to dig into the knots that had formed on his upper back. 

“Ahhhh,” Yuuri groaned, pressing his face down into the back of his hands.

“You really should have gotten a massage after Nationals. I’ll book you a professional one in the next couple of days—maybe when we get back to St. Petersburg. I’ve been going to see Mischa for many years, he’s a miracle-worker.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said, his voice muffled by the bedsheets.

Victor kneaded into Yuuri’s shoulders, his hands so deft that Yuuri wondered if he’d been trained.

As Victor worked, Yuuri let out little groans, feeling the tension in his body melt away little by little. Victor moved down to his lower back, working each muscle until it relaxed. Then he kneaded Yuuri’s ass, massaging each cheek one at a time. 

“Ahh, that feels so _good_ ,” Yuuri sighed. 

Between the bath and Victor’s skilled hands, Yuuri felt so relaxed, at ease…and he was starting to feel a little turned on. Yuuri’s cock was trapped under him against the sheets, the small movements of his body causing a bit of friction. Having Victor still straddling his legs also viscerally reminded him that they hadn’t had sex the night before—or that morning—despite both of them getting aroused each time.  

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Yuuri felt something hard brush against his leg. 

“Is that—”

Victor’s hands froze. “Sorry, it’s just…it’s a reflex, just ignore it.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Yuuri chuckled. 

Victor cleared his throat. “You’re just so hot, and…you’re directly below me…” Victor trailed off, starting to knead Yuuri’s glutes again. “Like I said, ignore it.”

Yuuri bit his lip. “Maybe I don’t want to ignore it.”

Victor paused in his movements. “Oh?” his voice cracked a little.

Instead of answering, Yuuri simply canted his hips back into Victor’s hands, letting out a little keening noise. 

“Fuck.” Victor swore under his breath, grinding down against Yuuri’s thighs. “Are you sure?”

“I want you,” Yuuri looked over his shoulder at Victor, whose flush was spreading down his neck to his chest. 

Victor sunk his teeth into his lower lip. “I want you too. Always.” He leaned down to kiss one of Yuuri’s shoulder blades. Yuuri bit his lip, rolling his hips again, pushing against Victor’s hardening cock.

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor moaned, pressing him into the bed. 

“Ahh,” Yuuri sighed.

Victor leaned down to kiss all along Yuuri’s back, moving his hips slowly so that his cock continued to slide between Yuuri’s cheeks. 

“I really...want you to fuck me,” Yuuri gasped. “Please.” 

Victor made a little strangled noise in his throat.“I...you…” 

“Don’t you want to?” Yuuri looked over his shoulder again, his eyes half-lidded.

Victor gulped, closing his eyes for a couple of seconds. When he reopened them, he looked positively predatory, which sent a thrill down Yuuri’s spine.

“Will you?” Yuuri prompted, though he already knew the answer. He moved his hips again, rubbing his ass against Victor’s cock in a slow motion. 

“Yessss,” Victor groaned. “But I want to do something else first.” 

“What?”

In lieu of an answer, Victor slid down further on the bed. He pushed Yuuri’s legs apart so that he was lying between them, kissing up Yuuri’s thighs to his ass.

Yuuri arched his back, every touch of Victor’s lips setting his skin on fire. He circled his hips, his cock rubbing against the sheets and giving him a delicious amount of friction.

Victor kissed up Yuuri’s ass, spreading the cheeks a little, but then he stopped. 

“Can I?” 

“Can you…” 

“I want to taste you.” Victor slipped a finger between Yuuri’s cheeks, massaging his hole. “Here.”

Yuuri looked over his shoulder. “You... _oh_.” 

“Can I?” 

Yuuri felt his whole face heat. “Yeah, I mean...I—I’ve never done it before, but…”

“I think you’ll like it. If you don’t, just tell me to stop.” 

“O—okay,” Yuuri said, glad that he’d just washed himself throughly everywhere, including there. 

Without any hesitation, Victor spread his cheeks wider and licked a stripe up his perineum and over his hole. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Yuuri gasped, pressing his face directly into the bed. 

Victor massaged Yuuri’s hole, lapping it with the flat of his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he slipped his tongue inside and started fucking Yuuri with it.

Yuuri groaned again, caught between pushing back into Victor’s mouth and rubbing his cock against the sheets. He felt hot all over, the nerve endings singing with contact and his mind reminding him over and over that it was _Victor’s_ face that was currently buried in his ass. 

He had watched this in porn before, of course, but it was nothing compared to the real thing. The sensation of Victor’s mouth doing something so illicit was incredibly hot. 

Yuuri knew he was making too much noise, so he grabbed a pillow, pressing his face into it.

Victor reached down underneath Yuuri’s hips, stroking his cock in time as he continued to fuck Yuuri with his tongue. Yuuri gasped, dizziness overtaking him as the blood rushed out of his head; delicious waves of pleasure rippling through him. But it wasn’t quite enough.

“Victor, please, please fuck me, I—” Yuuri moaned again. “I need you inside me.”

Victor stopped, pressing his forehead to Yuuri’s back, breathing heavily. “Fuck.”

“Victor. _Victor,_ now.” 

“Okay, okay....hold on, I’ll get a condom.” 

“I don’t need—” Yuuri blushed. “I mean, if you don’t want.” He wanted to feel Victor’s cock with nothing between them.

Victor slipped off the bed, finding a condom and bottle of lube in the bedside table.

“Not until we get tested,” Victor said firmly. 

“But—”

“No buts, Yuuri. If you want, we can go to the clinic tomorrow, but not until then.” 

Yuuri sighed. “Fine.” 

Victor moved behind him again, opening the bottle of lube and slicking up his fingers.

He massaged Yuuri’s hole with his fingers, loosening the muscle until he could start pressing one in. 

“Ahhhh.” Yuuri keened, pushing back into his hand, but Victor held him steady. He worked his finger in slowly, until he could add another. 

“Have you done this to yourself?” Victor asked, his voice sounding rough. 

“Yes,” Yuuri choked out, arching his back. 

“Mmmmm,” Victor purred. “That’s so hot.”

“It’s so….ahhhh...much better with you doing it.”

Victor crooked his fingers, finding his prostate, and Yuuri saw stars. 

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Yuuri swore, pressing his face into the cool pillow, trying really hard not to come right then and there. 

Victor made a pleased noise, rubbing over the spot again slowly, torturing Yuuri with pleasure.

“Victor, oh my god,” Yuuri moaned. 

“You look so amazing like this, you have no idea.” Victor smoothed his free hand up Yuuri’s back. 

“Please, just...do it,” Yuuri moaned. “Now.”

“Not until you’re fully prepared, I don’t want to hurt you,” Victor said, still slowly fucking Yuuri with his fingers. “Can you take another?”

Unable to form words, Yuuri nodded.

“Yuuri?” Victor stroked over his prostate again. 

“Yes, yes, please, god,” Yuuri gasped.

Victor obliged, adding another finger, slowly stretching him open.

“You’re stunning, you know that? Taking my fingers so well,” Victor purred, kissing Yuuri’s shoulders again as his fingers continued to move. They were moving in and out quickly now, hardly any resistance, and it was driving Yuuri mad. 

“Please, please, I want,” Yuuri gasped. 

“You want?” 

“Your cock, I want—” Yuuri moaned as Victor hit his prostate again. “I _need_ it.”

Victor kissed the back of his neck, removing his fingers. Yuuri groaned again, his eyes falling shut.

Victor picked up the condom, trying to rip open the wrapper but not able to manage it because his hands were too slippery. He wiped off his hands on Yuuri’s towel, then ripped it open with his teeth, rolling the condom down onto his cock. To Yuuri’s surprise, instead of positioning himself behind Yuuri again, Victor lay down flat on his back on the bed.

Yuuri was panting, watching him. 

“Aren’t you going to…” Yuuri bit his lip.

“I think you should ride me. It will give you more control,” Victor said, dripping some more lube onto his cock. 

“Oh,” Yuuri watched him stroke himself for a moment, unable to move.

“Yuuri,” Victor lifted his chin. “Come here.”

With some effort, Yuuri got up and swung a leg over so that he was sitting on Victor’s lap, Victor’s cock behind him.

Victor smoothed his hands up Yuuri’s thighs. “Are you sure you want this?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” Yuuri said, reaching back to position the head against his hole.

“Have you ever…had something this big inside you before?” Victor panted. 

“Just dildos,” Yuuri said. “But I know to take it slowly.”

A flare of heat in Victor’s gaze was barely visible before he shut his eyes, groaning, as the head of his cock was enveloped by Yuuri’s hole.

“Oh my god, I…” Yuuri braced his hands on Victor’s chest, threw his head back.

He waited for a couple of seconds, and started moving. He raised himself up and down, slowly, taking more of Victor in each time.

This was something Yuuri had fantasized about far too many times, and it was better than he could have imagined. 

Victor stayed still, holding him around the waist, as he worked his way down until he was seated on Victor’s thighs. 

Yuuri opened his eyes, leaning forward. Victor was a sight to behold; his eyes were dark, hair disheveled, lips pink, the flush on his neck spreading down to his chest. He was the most beautiful thing Yuuri had ever seen.

“You’re inside me.” Yuuri’s whole body was trembling.

“I am,” Victor said, voice full of wonder, smoothing his hands up Yuuri’s thighs.

“Should I…”

“Move, yes.” Victor slid his hands up to Yuuri’s waist.

Yuuri started moving, swiveling his hips, testing the angles. Even with the condom, he could feel the ridges of Victor’s cock against his walls. 

Then he found the right angle, Victor’s cock brushing against his prostate.

“Ahhhh,” Yuuri moaned loudly, repeating the motion. “Fuck, that’s _amazing_.”

Yuuri started moving more quickly, feeling the delicious slide and heat. Victor planted his feet, using the leverage to thrust into Yuuri at the same time. They rocked like that for a few minutes, until Yuuri felt nothing but pleasure and heat, no uncomfortable stretch.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Victor said hoarsely.

“Victor, I—” Yuuri started thrusting himself hard down onto Victor’s cock, seeing stars every time Victor’s cock thrust against his prostate. 

Suddenly Victor sat up, pulling Yuuri into a searing kiss. Yuuri couldn’t move as much, but they steadily rocked together, Victor’s mouth slanting against his own, hot and perfect. Victor reached down to stroke Yuuri’s cock as he rocked upward, swallowing Yuuri’s gasp. Yuuri moaned into his mouth, kissing Victor deeply, twisting his hand into the back of Victor’s hair as he started thrusting down harder again. He was so close, his entire body alight, and then Victor thrust up into him, hard, and Yuuri pressed his forehead to Victor’s neck, coming with a shout all over Victor’s stomach.

It almost felt like he passed out for a few seconds, but when he came to, Victor was stroking up and down Yuuri’s back.

“Господи, ты такой красивый. Я так сильно люблю тебя,”[4] Victor mumbled.

Yuuri trembled in his arms, his whole body shaking through the aftershocks of his powerful orgasm. 

“Now you,” Yuuri said, once he was able to form words again.

“Are you sure? You’re not too sensitive?”

Yuuri leaned back enough that he could see Victor’s face. “I want you to come inside me. 

Victor looked stunned for a moment, so Yuuri pulled him down on top of him, spreading his legs. 

“Do it.” Yuuri lifted his chin slightly.

Victor didn’t need any more prompting; he started thrusting into Yuuri, pushing his thighs up around Yuuri’s ears so that he could go deeper.

“Just like that, yes, god, you’re fantastic,” Yuuri encouraged him, grabbing onto Victor’s ass, wishing he could get hard again right away because he wanted to stay like this forever, with Victor inside him and on top of him and enveloping him. A few hard thrusts later, Victor moaned loudly, biting down on Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri gasped, feeling him come.

Victor collapsed on top of him, panting. Yuuri wrapped all of his limbs around Victor, holding him close, feeling safe, and treasured, and completely, utterly satisfied. 

_I love you, I love you, god I love you._

“Are you alright?” Victor asked, pulling back enough to look at him. He brushed his fingers over Yuuri’s cheek. “Was it okay?”

Yuuri realized that tears were escaping the corners of his eyes.

“It was everything I dreamed it would be,” he said, pulling Victor down for another long kiss.

 

 

* * *

After showering, they napped for a couple of hours, tangled together. 

The sunlight was slanting through the windows when Yuuri woke again, with Victor spooning him. He sighed, wiggling back a bit, a warm glow spreading through him. He would have drifted off again if it hadn’t been for the fact that his stomach growled—loudly. 

“Hmph?” Victor raised his head. “Was that your stomach?”

“Sorry,” Yuuri laughed. “I guess I’m hungry.”

“I’ll run to the kitchen and get us some food.” Victor swung his legs out of bed, finding his sweatpants from where they’d been discarded on the floor.

Yuuri rolled over onto his back, stretching his arms over his head, the sheet falling down to his waist.

“What do you—” Victor started to ask, turning to look at Yuuri. His eyes widened, his gaze flicking down Yuuri’s body, then back up to meet Yuuri’s eyes. 

Only a month ago, the heated gaze would have made Yuuri feel self-conscious, embarrassed; now, he just grinned. 

“Like what you see?” he asked, biting his lip.

“That’s not fair,” Victor whined. “I’m trying to go out and get us sustenance.”

“So go,” Yuuri looked up at him with eyes half-lidded. “I’ll still be here.” 

Victor still looked conflicted, but he made his way to the door.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, looking over his shoulder one more time.

“Okay,” Yuuri nodded.

When the door closed, Yuuri reached for his phone, which he’d been ignoring all day. There was a call from Mari he needed to return, and some texts from Phichit asking if he’d “done it yet.”

Yuuri sighed, throwing his phone aside. He pressed his palms to his eyes. _I will do it. I’ll do it really soon._  

Victor came back a little while later with some leftovers, and they ate them in bed, naked, watching HGTV, before having another go-round. They fell asleep in each others’ arms, Yuuri feeling like his heart was at peace for the first time in far too long.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri woke up in the early hours of the morning to Victor tossing and turning next to him, moaning softly.

“Victor?” Yuuri mumbled, peeking at him blearily.

“Я не хочу. Алекс, не надо. Алекс, пожалуйста.”[5]

In the dim light, Yuuri could see that Victor’s face was streaked with tears. Just like all the other times he had seen Victor in the throes of a nightmare, Yuuri felt his heart clench.

“Пожалуйста, остановись, пожалуйста _,”_ [6] Victor choked out.

“Victor, it’s okay. Wake up,” he said, moving closer so that his body was pressed up against Victor’s.

Victor blinked his eyes open, sobbing softly. 

“Yuuri,” he rolled over, pressing his face into Yuuri’s neck.  

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” Yuuri smoothed his hand up Victor’s back.  

“It’s not _okay_ ,” Victor said, more tears escaping down his cheeks. 

Yuuri pressed his lips together. “Do you...want to talk about it?”  

Victor opened his eyes again, the deep cerulean of his irises appearing almost black in the predawn. “I…” he trailed off. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” Yuuri said quickly. “I’m here for you if you need to talk, that’s all.” 

Victor’s bottom lip trembled again. “How are you so good to me?” his voice cracked a little.  

 _Because I love you_ , Yuuri thought. 

 _Just say it._  

But before he could say the words, Victor turned his back to Yuuri and swung his legs out of bed, facing the windows, hands on his knees. Yuuri reached out to touch him, but for some reason he stopped, dropping his hand. 

“It’s time, isn’t it.” Victor sounded wrecked.  

Something deep in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach clenched, a sinking feeling taking hold. “Time for what?” 

“There’s something I haven’t told you about. Someone from my past.”

Yuuri sat up. “Are they the reason you have nightmares?" 

Victor nodded slowly. Yuuri watched his ribs rise and fall underneath his skin in the low light. His adrenalin had kicked in and he was now wide awake, all traces of sleepiness gone. 

“I can’t keep it from you, not anymore. It’s not fair to you.” 

The silence stretched out, seconds feeling like minutes, until Victor finally spoke again. 

“His name was Alex,” Victor began, his voice low. “He was my first.”

“First…?”

“First everything. I was only nineteen, and before that I’d never…skating had always been the only thing in my life, the most important thing.”

Victor took a deep breath, his shoulders straightening, as if he were preparing for battle.  

“He was a gymnast, a couple of years older than me. He was destined to be one of the greats, or so everyone said. We met in the summer, when I was in my off-season, and I fell so hard for him—he was beautiful, and talented, and…” Victor trailed off. Yuuri felt a small surge of jealousy. Victor had never talked about this Alex before. 

Victor swallowed and went on. “I had taken bronze at the Grand Prix Final the previous season, but barely missed the podium at Worlds. I knew I’d be entering my prime in the upcoming season. That summer, he was training hard for his own World Championships—he was favored to win a couple of events, possibly even the all-around. He kept telling me that he didn’t have much time to see me, so we didn’t meet up often...but when we were together, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. My life was a haze of sex and skating. I thought I was happy, but…” he rubbed his hand through his hair. “There were times when, if I was home late from practice on a day we were supposed to meet, he would get jealous and possessive, asking me who I’d been with and why. I would tell him the truth—that I was practicing—but he didn’t believe me. We’d fight, but then I’d beg for him to forgive me, not to leave me, and we’d make up—that is, have makeup sex. It became a pattern. 

“That fall, the Grand Prix series began, and I won the NHK Trophy. I was finally starting to make a name for myself apart from my parents. And I was in love…at least, I thought I was.”

“You told me you had never been in love,” Yuuri said before he could stop himself.

Victor looked over his shoulder. “I _thought_ it was love. At the time, I didn’t know that physical infatuation and love were different things. What I had with Alex wasn’t love at all, anyway. It was a dark, twisted thing. Not love.” 

Before Yuuri could say anything, Victor turned back toward the windows.  

“Just before Alex’s Worlds, the injury happened.”  

Victor stood up and walked over to the windows, pressing his hands to the cold glass.

“He tore something in his knee in the prelims. It was...devastating...career-ending.”

He hung his head, leaning his weight into the glass, his back muscles tense. 

“He became…” Victor gulped. “He took pain pills for his knee, and started drinking because he couldn’t train. I’d come home from a competition and show him my medal, and he’d smile, but it was angry and bitter. ‘So you’re trying to rub it in my face,’ he’d say. ‘You’re pathetic. You only care about medals, not me.’ I learned not to talk about my successes at all with him. I couldn’t tell him when I’d won, or about the choreography for my new routine, not even about learning a new jump. I was always walking on eggshells, trying not to upset him…to learn the ‘rules’ I would have to play by in order to keep him happy.” 

Yuuri reached out toward Victor’s back, but he didn’t move closer. Now that Victor was talking about this, it was like a flood; he had to let it run its course, let him say all of it. 

“But no matter what I did, how hard I tried, something would make him angry. The ‘rules’ didn’t make sense, and I would inevitably do something wrong. It just got worse and worse. I thought everything would get better if I just waited, if I stayed with him, because he’d lost something so fundamental to who he was. ‘He’s having a hard time right now,’ I’d tell myself. I thought if I stayed with him, then ‘my’ Alex, the one I’d fallen for, would come back. But that Alex was gone. Or maybe he’d never even existed. I don’t know.” 

Victor took a shuddering breath. The glass around his hands fogged up, creating a haze around his head. 

“I thought the worst thing, the most painful thing, would be for him to break up with me. I never contemplated breaking up with him. At the end of every fight, I would end up being the one to apologize, begging him not to leave me. He’d make a big show of forgiving me, which was ridiculous, considering it was usually him who started the fight. Sometimes, the makeup sex was rough, and he…” Victor shuddered a little. “Sometimes I’d tell him to stop, that he was hurting me, and he…he wouldn’t.”

“Oh my god.” Yuuri clenched his teeth, anger starting to pulse through him as he imagined a young Victor being manipulated, his body being mistreated. All of his interactions in the past couple of days with Vladimir suddenly made sense. “I can’t believe he did that to you.” 

“I didn’t know better. I was just grateful that he kept taking me back when I had been ‘bad,’ that he didn’t break it off.” Victor shook his head. “I was so _stupid_.” 

Yuuri inhaled sharply, shocked that Victor could possibly blame himself for how Alexei treated him. “You weren’t stupid,” he said. “He was the one who was wrong, not you.” 

Victor’s fingertips pressed into the glass, his knuckles whitening. The pain was written in every inch of his body, every muscle taut.  

“I kept telling myself things would get better. But then…” he swallowed. “He did something completely unforgivable.”

Yuuri’s fists clenched even harder in the sheets, his vision turning white. _What? What did he do to you?_   

“After...it happened, I went to practice the next morning, just like I always had after one of our fights, cut lip and bruises covered up with makeup. But Yakov took one look at me and he just _knew._ He made me tell him everything. I kept making excuses for Alex’s behavior, but Yakov took me by the shoulders and literally shook me. He told me he wouldn’t let me throw my career away for a washed-up has-been. He wouldn’t let me see Alex for a long time, made me block his number. I can see now how all of that would have had the opposite effect for some people, but it worked. I cut him out of my life, but inside I felt hollow…heartbroken.”

Yuuri couldn’t help it anymore; he got up from the bed and walked over to Victor. 

“Can I touch you?” he whispered, needing to ground Victor, but also himself. 

Victor nodded, closing his eyes. Yuuri pressed himself into Victor’s back, holding him as snugly as he could, wishing it was enough to take his pain away. 

“I didn’t...” Victor’s voice wobbled a little. “I didn’t do well for a while. There were nights when I would just collapse on the floor for hours, and wake up in the morning with every muscle aching and drag myself to practice. I think Yakov thought I was hungover, but I never drank, not after seeing what it did to Alex.”

Victor opened his eyes again, looking out at the grey world in front of them. “One day, Alex showed up at the rink, begging me to take him back. Yakov pulled him out of the arena by the collar. What scared me the most is that I almost listened to him, almost gave him another chance.” He shook his head. “I never saw him again after that.

“We had never been public about our relationship, mostly because Alex didn’t want to be, so our breakup wasn’t public either. When we were together, I thought it was because he wanted to keep our love private, so that it was just ours, but I realized later it was because he wanted to fuck around, string me along. Not long after we broke up, I found out that he’d been sleeping with other men the whole time.”

“Oh, Victor,” Yuuri felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

“Skating was the one thing I had left, so I threw everything I had into it. I cut off all my hair and cut myself off emotionally. For years, I wouldn’t let myself get close to anyone. At the same time, I was starting to become more famous, so the tabloids wrote a lot about me during that time. They published pictures of me out with friends, speculating that I was hooking up with them. Eventually, I got a bit of a reputation, even though I hadn’t let anyone actually touch me since Alex. Nadiya decided to cash in on it, fluff the tales up a little to get sponsors even more interested in me. I didn’t care about anything but skating, and having money to make Papa and Inessa comfortable, so I let her go wild. I came to regret that later, once it was far too late.” 

Yuuri pressed his cheek to Victor’s shoulder blade, closing his eyes. “I had no idea.”  

“No one did. That was the point. I was the whore of ice skating, the international playboy who fucked his way around the world,” he scoffed bitterly. Yuuri winced; it wasn’t far from what he’d believed once. “No one knew how far that was from the truth.  

“Life went on like that for a while. One day, Inessa showed up on my doorstep. She told me I needed to find a life outside of skating, because someday I wouldn’t be able to do it anymore. I got angry, and I told her to mind her own business, but you know her… she has a way of getting me to do exactly what she wants.”

Yuuri huffed a little. “She is a force of nature.”

“She is. So I did try to date for a while…really date. Once or twice, I thought I’d found someone who actually cared about me, but then they would sell their ‘kiss and tell’ story of sleeping with the ice prince to the tabloids again. Those men never really cared about me in the first place, they just wanted to make money off of me. So I gave up, resigned myself to a lonely existence. I kept winning, kept making money, but none of it really seemed to matter anymore. I let Nadiya set up ‘caught in the act’ photos, ramping up the scandal each time. I felt like everything had become meaningless. Even winning no longer gave me joy. If it wasn’t for Makkachin, I might have even…” he didn’t finish his sentence. 

 _No. You couldn’t have… no._ The implication made Yuuri feel like he was going to throw up. He clutched Victor to him.

The silence stretched on for a long time. Yuuri watched as a couple of tears dripped onto the plush carpet, but he wasn’t sure if they were his or Victor’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him before? About Alex.” 

Victor hesitated for a moment, licking his lips. “I was afraid that once you found out, you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

A twisted surge of anger, sadness, and complete confusion hit Yuuri all at once like a tidal wave. “You thought. You thought I wouldn’t want you if I found out about how he’d hurt you?” he managed to say.  

“Now that you say it that way, it sounds absurd.” Victor laughed bitterly. 

Yuuri released him, stepping around so that he was standing in front of Victor, his back to the window. He reached up to cup Victor’s cheek as Victor stood up straight.“You were the victim,” Yuuri said, as evenly as he could manage. “I would never blame you for what he did to you. I wish I knew where he is, so I could take a lead pipe to his kneecaps.” 

Victor choked out another laugh, closing his eyes briefly and shaking his head. Yuuri waited until Victor reopened his eyes, his gaze trained on Yuuri’s face like a drowning man. 

“There’s one more part of the story I haven’t told you.” 

Yuuri nodded, rubbing his thumb over Victor’s cheek, just a small gesture to say _I’m here, I’m listening._

“Last fall, I was at Skate America. I wasn’t competing, just accompanying Yakov to help out with the skaters who were. I thought it would also be a good time to scope out the season’s competition. 

“During the short program, I saw a skater that I had never noticed before. He held my attention from the beginning to the end, his whole body graceful, though something was holding him back, keeping him from reaching his full potential. Still, watching him skate was like seeing sunlight breaking through the clouds. I looked him up later, watched all of his routines I could find online. He was so beautiful on the ice, intoxicating, and adorably humble in interviews. I wanted to find out more about him, but I never got the nerve to actually talk to him.” 

Yuuri felt his heart starting to beat faster again. Could he have read this whole thing wrong? Was Victor actually in love with someone else?  

Victor bit his lip. “I had told myself that I could never let myself become infatuated with someone again, not like I did with Alex, because it had very nearly destroyed me. But there was something about this man that drew me to him, even though I never had a conversation with him. Still, I held myself back, because I was afraid of repeating the same cycle. I might not have ever gotten up the nerve to talk to him, but then when we met on the ice as competitors, I knew I had to take the chance. I waited until after the skating was over, and I’d had a few drinks to get up the courage, and finally, I did. And…the way he danced with me, the way he spoke to me, his…his kisses…it didn’t feel like walking on the edge of a precipice like it had with Alex, it felt more like coming home. For the first time in far too long, I felt like I had something to look forward to." 

Yuuri felt his heart breaking in his chest. 

“You should be with him,” Yuuri interrupted, dropping his hand. “If he makes you feel that way, you should find whoever it is, you should be with him. Don’t worry about me, I’ll—”

Victor caught Yuuri’s wrist as he started to move away. “Yuuri.”

“Let me go,” Yuuri turned his face away in shame.

Victor smiled sadly. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m talking about you, _zolotse_.” 

Yuuri stopped trying to pull his arm free, looking up at Victor. “I…you can’t mean…”  

Victor pulled him close again, so that Yuuri couldn’t see anything but his deep blue eyes. 

“At first when we woke up that morning afterward, I thought I was still dreaming, but it was you sleeping next to me, both of us with rings on our fingers. I didn’t want you to feel trapped, or like you owed anything to me, or like you had to stay with me...but for the first time in a decade, I couldn’t wait to see what life held for me other than skating.” 

“But—but that morning, you acted like you didn’t know me…” Yuuri stuttered. 

“The alternative was admitting that I had been been watching you from afar for months,” Victor said, chuckling. “I’m sure you can see why I didn’t go that route.”

“I mean, I admired you from afar for over a decade,” Yuuri said softly. “Who’s creepier?” 

Victor half-laughed, half sobbed. He slid his hands around Yuuri’s waist, pressing their foreheads together. “Sometimes I don’t know if I deserve you, but I hope I do. I…I know I haven’t said it yet, but—” 

In a flash, Yuuri realized what Victor was about to say. “Victor, I—” 

Victor shook his head. “No, let me say this. I have to...I have to say it. I was scared…before, I was scared, because the only other person I’ve said it to threw it back in my face, and hurt me so much in my mind and body that I thought I was broken beyond repair. But I’m not scared anymore. Because of you.” 

He tipped Yuuri’s face up so that they could look in each other’s eyes. 

“ _I love you, Yuuri_ ,” he said in Japanese, carefully enunciating the words.  

Yuuri gasped, his heart pounding.  

“Every day since we woke up next to each other in Sochi, I have grown to love you more and more. I love the way you squint when you first wake up because you can’t see without your glasses. I love the way your body looks when you arch into an Ina Bauer. I love how you close your eyes and breathe in deeply before you take the first sip of your morning tea. I love the way your skin feels against mine. I love the way your forehead wrinkles when you’re concentrating on a jump, the same thing it does when I’m complimenting you but you don’t believe me, like right now. I love your determination, your drive, how you never give up even when your mind tells you that you can’t do it. You inspired me, made me want something again when life had felt meaningless for far too long. You healed all the parts of me that had been broken. I didn’t think I could actually love again after that, not until you.” 

Yuuri felt himself on the edge of a precipice, one he’d been standing on for days now. He’d been holding a little bit of himself back, because he’d been afraid too. 

But now, Victor had told him the most painful story of his life, putting his heart in Yuuri’s hands. Now Yuuri just had to give his own heart in return, fully.

“I love you too, Victor,” Yuuri whispered. “I love you so much.”

Victor started to say something, but Yuuri put his index finger over his lips.

“You’re so unbelievably brave to tell me everything that happened to you. I’m not magic, though. I can’t heal you just because I love you. I hope you know that. But I’m here...I’ll be here to help you heal yourself. And I promise that I’ll never, ever hurt you like he did.”  

Victor made a sobbing noise in his throat, his whole body trembling under Yuuri’s fingertips. “I know you wouldn’t.”  

Yuuri pressed his lips to Victor’s. It wasn’t a deep or passionate kiss; but it was unmatched in its reverence, their lips sealing a promise to each other.  

“Come back to bed,” Yuuri whispered against his lips. Victor let himself be led back to the tangled sheets. Yuuri pressed him down onto the mattress, curling himself around Victor’s body and pulling the blanket up.  

“I love you,” he said again, just because he could, into Victor’s hair.  

Victor clutched him tightly. “I love you too.” 

The wind whistled beyond the windows, but Yuuri just held Victor until his body stopped shaking and he fell back asleep. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> [1] Что там? = “What is it?” 
> 
> [2] Елочная игрушка — балерина. Точно такая же как та, что Витя разбил много лет назад. = “It’s a ballerina ornament… Just like the one Vitya broke all those years ago.”
> 
> [3] котёнок = kitten
> 
> [4] Господи, ты такой красивый. Я так сильно люблю тебя = “You’re so beautiful. I love you so much”
> 
> [5] Я не хочу. Алекс, не надо. Алекс, пожалуйста = “I don’t want to. Alex, don’t. Alex, please.
> 
> [6] Пожалуйста, остановись, пожалуйста = “Please stop, please.”
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings: discussion of past abusive relationships, including emotional, physical and sexual abuse, and minor reference to suicidal ideation
> 
> So. Now you know What Alex Did, and why we hate him. You also know why Victor constantly asks for affirmative consent from Yuuri before they have sex.
> 
> This is not subject matter I treat lightly, because I have personal experience with abusive people (both family members and partners). I did my absolute best to stay true to the violence that victims suffer and their psychology, so most of the things that happened to Victor were taken directly from things that happened to me or to people close to me. I do not mean to make it seem like a coach shaking you by the shoulders (or anything of the kind) is necessarily enough to get someone to leave an abusive partner. In fact, it’s probably not what Yakov should have done at all, and it could easily have made Victor withdraw further and stay in the abusive relationship. Victor didn’t leave Alex because he thought he loved him, and that has happened to many, many victims of domestic violence. Additionally, I don’t want to make it seem like falling in love after being abused makes everything better; Victor still has a lot of issues he’s going to have to sort through, and the fact that he’s in love with Yuuri does not negate all that he’s been through—which is something Yuuri points out at the end of the chapter.


	14. Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri travel back to St. Petersburg, where they are photographed in the cover shoot of a major magazine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay this time, folks. Life and work have both been super busy, and writer’s block was a bitch this time round.
> 
> Anyway, I think y’all (and our boys) deserve some fluff after that last chapter, don’t you?
> 
> As always, longhornletters is my best bitch. Thank you Laura <3

Yuuri shuffled into the morning-bright kitchen, rubbing his bleary eyes.

He hadn’t slept much after their early-morning talk, his mind working in overdrive as he tried to digest all Victor had told him. He’d spent several hours watching Victor’s sleeping face, a knot of anger growing in his chest as he thought about all the horrible things Alexei had done. Finally, the sun had crept high enough that he’d given up on ever falling back asleep, extricating himself from Victor’s arms and leaving him to his slumber.

Yuuri put the kettle on for his tea, then turned to the coffeemaker. There was already some coffee made, however; and a large sealed envelope was propped up against the machine along with a note. 

_Hope you both slept well. This packet arrived this morning. I’m going out to breakfast with a friend, Volodya is at work. See you for dinner! -Inessa_

Yuuri yawned, leaning against the counter as he opened the envelope and pulled out the official-looking papers within. It was the contract for the Nike deal with a letter from Nadiya on top. 

He skimmed the long pages of legalese, going cross-eyed almost immediately. Even if English had been his first language, he was pretty sure he’d have no idea what any of it meant. He stopped at the part discussing payment, staring at the page for a long moment. He had never seen so many zeros. 

Only a couple of days ago, the contract would probably have sent him into a spiraling panic, wondering if the money was the only reason Victor wanted him...but not anymore. The security of being able to pay off his family’s debts was one thing, but money—even _that_ much money—paled in comparison with the knowledge that Victor loved him. 

Still. He had half a mind to use a good portion of the funds to hire a private investigator and find Alexei just so that he could punch him in the face. 

Yuuri put the contract aside and picked up the note from Nadiya. She explained the main provisions of the contract, noting that Victor’s lawyer had already looked it over and approved it. At the bottom she added that they had also been asked to do a cover shoot for Sports Illustrated in three days. Like an afterthought.

“Jeez,” Yuuri muttered under his breath. _Sports Illustrated._ He had never dreamed of being on the cover of such a major magazine. 

He sighed, dropping Nadiya’s note on the counter. He wasn’t exactly happy with Nadiya at the moment—not now that he knew how much she’d used Victor for financial gain. He didn’t know if he could forgive her for that anytime soon.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri looked up to see a drowsy, shirtless Victor leaning against the doorway.

“Hey, you.” Yuuri smiled.

Victor walked over and draped himself over Yuuri, tucking his face into Yuuri’s neck. 

“You weren’t in bed.” Victor’s voice was sleep-rough, his accent thicker than usual. 

Yuuri slid his hands around Victor’s waist, hugging him close. “I just came out to get tea and coffee.”

“I know, I just…” Victor trailed off, his fingertips flexing into Yuuri’s back possessively.

Yuuri closed his eyes, sliding a hand up into Victor’s hair, massaging the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you alone right now, my love.” The word still felt strange in his mouth, but in a good way.

Victor sniffled. “It’s okay, I’m just being…what is that word? Clingy.”

“I understand,” Yuuri said. “I’m feeling a little clingy too.”

“What’s that?” Victor lifted his chin toward the papers Yuuri had abandoned.

“Oh, it’s the Nike sponsorship contract. Nadiya sent it for us to sign. Also, did you know about this Sports Illustrated photo shoot?” 

Victor picked up the letter from Nadiya, scanning it quickly before dropping it again. 

“She mentioned it a couple days ago, but I didn’t know it went through. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, right, it’s probably old hat for you at this point, Mr. I’ve Been on The Cover of Every Major Magazine At Least Once,” Yuuri teased.

Victor cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. “Old hat?” 

Yuuri snorted. “Like, old news. Nothing special.” 

“Hmm. You definitely know a lot more English sayings than I do.”

“I blame Phichit. He basically only speaks Americanese.” 

Victor sighed and leaned in, resting their foreheads together. Yuuri tilted his face up and kissed him, just because he could. Victor kissed back, his muscles relaxing under Yuuri’s hands, as if the caresses relieved some kind of pressure. He pulled back after a few soft kisses and glanced over his shoulder. “Are Inessa and Papa…?” 

“They’re out.” 

Victor grinned. “Perfect.” He lifted Yuuri by the hips and plopped him on the counter. 

“You can pick me up that easily?” Yuuri laughed.

“Is that okay?” Victor stepped between his legs, their heads now level. 

Yuuri bit his lip. “It’s pretty hot,” he admitted. 

Victor grinned, sliding his hands around Yuuri’s waist. “It will come in useful later, too.” 

“Oh?” Yuuri felt his face heat, wondering what that could mean. 

Victor rolled his eyes. “Not for _that_. What is that phrase? Get your mind out of the dirt?” 

“It’s ‘gutter.’ And I can’t really help it.” Yuuri wrapped his legs around Victor’s hips, drawing him closer.

Victor chuckled, his eyes lidded, gaze soft and reverent as he cupped Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri felt the weight of everything that had changed between them the night before, his entire being tingling with the knowledge of what that particular look in Victor's eyes meant. Seeing it was like watching the light break through clouds and glitter on ocean waves.

“I love you,” Victor whispered. 

Yuuri smiled, brushing his hair out of his eyes gently. “And I love you.” 

Victor rested his forehead against Yuuri’s again, sighing. “I think it’ll be some time before I stop wanting to tell you that every moment of every day.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing it.” 

Victor brushed their lips together, holding his jaw gently, like it was a precious thing. Yuuri closed his eyes and opened his lips wider, tasting peppermint from his toothpaste. Their lips slid against each other unhurriedly, sweetly. As they kissed, wrapped around each other, Yuuri thought fleetingly that this could be the first of hundreds, thousands, an infinite number of kisses on sunny mornings long into their future.

 

 

  

* * *

 

Between one thing and another, it was well past eleven when they finally made it to the rink.

“So what should I practice today?” Yuuri asked. “I feel like I should work on the jumps in the second half of my free skate.”

“Not right now. First, we are going to work on something new.” Victor held the door open for Yuuri.

“New? Oh god, it’s what you were being so secretive about yesterday, isn’t it? Don’t tell me you’re switching my free skate program out too, I don’t think my heart can handle it.” 

Victor rolled his eyes, dropping his gear bag on the bench and sitting down to untie his sneakers. “No, it’s not that.” 

Yuuri sat down next to him, eyebrows raised. 

“Stop being so impatient. It’s supposed to be a _surprise_. You’re going to love it, I promise.” Victor pulled one of his skates on. 

“You’re no fun,” Yuuri grumbled under his breath as he took out his own skates. 

“ _Au contraire, mon cher._ I’m the most fun.”

“You also never get tired of showing off. How many languages do you speak?”

Victor tapped his lips with his index finger. “Fluently, or conversationally?” 

Yuuri huffed. “Both.” 

Victor pulled on the other skate. “Well, English, French and Russian fluently, I guess. Mama taught me the English and French. I can speak Italian conversationally but I have trouble writing it and such. I’m just starting out on Japanese, obviously. And I have a smattering of German, mostly because of Chris.”

Yuuri waved his hand dismissively, rolling his eyes. “Like I said, a show-off.”

Victor bumped their shoulders together, his fingers still tightening his skates. “You’re not so bad yourself. Your English is better than mine, for one thing.” 

“I don’t know about that.”

“And you speak some Thai, too, right?”

“Only because I was forced to by a certain roommate,” Yuuri said, shrugging. “I kind of wanted to know what he was grumbling about half of the time. But I don’t have any grasp of the grammar structure whatsoever.” 

“On a related note, can you start tutoring me in Japanese? There’s only so much I can learn from apps…and I’d really love to be able to speak your language.”

Yuuri stopped tightening his skates, looking up at Victor. He’d thought, before, that Victor had simply started learning Japanese on a lark, but then he’d confessed his love in the language. Not for the first time, he berated himself mentally for not noticing Victor’s feelings earlier. It had been so obvious how much Victor had wanted to be a part of his life, a part of _him_.

He smiled. “Only if you’ll try to teach me Russian. I’m tired of not knowing what’s happening half the time around here. Just to warn you, though, it might take me a while. Languages aren’t exactly my strong suit.”

“Well, we do have the rest of our lives, so that’s no problem.” Victor winked, standing up and walking over to the boards.

Yuuri blinked, watching his lean figure glide out onto the ice.

_The rest of our lives._

That was true, wasn’t it? They were already married, and they loved each other, so it was pretty much settled that they would be together for...well.

As long as they both should live.

It was a promise they must have made each other that night in Sochi, but only now did it hold true meaning. 

Yuuri sighed, tightening his skate a little more as he watched Victor warm up. For what felt like the hundredth time, he wished he could remember even a little of that night. Victor, though—he’d said something the night before about remembering the Banquet. Yuuri had been processing so much other new information that he hadn’t been able to think about it until Victor had been asleep. How much did he remember? And why had he lied about it? 

Now wasn’t the time to talk about it, though; they needed to practice. Yuuri made a mental note to ask him about it later, tying off his skate and joining Victor on the ice. He warmed up for a while, concentrating on his edges, until Victor gestured him over to the boards, next to the small travel speaker he’d brought.

“Are you finally going to tell me what we’re doing?” Yuuri asked, crossing his arms. 

Victor grinned, running his fingers through his flopping bangs, pushing them back from his face. 

“Okay. So. Don’t judge this too much, because the choreography is still a bit up in the air. I haven’t been able to do it on the ice yet so I’m working it out as I go. I just want to show you the general idea. Press play when I get out there?” 

Yuuri nodded, rapt with curiosity. 

Victor grinned, pushing off and gliding out into the ice. He stopped slightly off-center, turned toward the outside of the rink, his head bent and turned to to the side.

Yuuri pressed play on the speaker and leaned down to rest his forearms against the boards. As the opening instrumental notes began, he inhaled sharply, recognizing the song instantly.

Victor started skating slowly toward the outside of the rink, his face blank, reaching out as if he were searching for something. He loosened his center, blades scraping the ice in lazy arcs, his body bending so gracefully that it made Yuuri’s heart ache. 

As the tenor voice started singing, Victor turned, looking back toward the center of the ice. 

 _Never knew I could feel like this_  
_Like I’ve never seen the sky before_  

Victor’s breath caught, eyes widening, and he danced over the ice back toward the center, slow turns and movements at first, building in intensity until he reached the middle.

 _Want to vanish inside your kiss_  
_Every day I love you more and more_  

He twirled in a circle around center ice, his body singing with excitement. As he spun around, arms outstretched, Yuuri covered his mouth with his hands, realizing what he was doing: he was making a pair skate for the two of them. 

Victor’s circling tightened, skating closer and closer to the center.

 _Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing?_  
_Telling me to give you everything_  
_Seasons may change, winter to spring_  

Victor finally came to the middle of the rink and mimicked an embrace, simulating a lift with an invisible partner, his face beatific as he held the partner aloft.

 _But I love you_  
_Until the end of time_

Victor lowered his arms slowly, then began a waltz with his invisible partner—the partner who would be Yuuri.

 _Come what may_  
_Come what may_

As he moved, the morning sunlight slanted through the windows, alighting on his silver hair and his face. He looked...like he was in love. Like he couldn’t contain it, like it was too big for him, and he had to show it with his entire body. 

Exactly how Yuuri felt about Victor.

 _I will love you_  
_Until my dying day_

Victor skated faster now, dropping his arms from the waltz position and moving across the rink in a step sequence, pretending to hold someone’s hand. He twirled around and simulated another lift, looking upward with a face full of joy. 

 _Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place_  
_Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace_  

Yuuri couldn’t rip his eyes away from him. He knew he wasn’t really paying as much attention to the moves as he should be, but it was intoxicating, watching Victor skate. The meaning behind the words was shown in every lift of his arms and scrape of his blades. 

 _Suddenly my life doesn’t seem such a waste_  
_It all revolves around you_  

Victor gained speed and launched into a triple axle. Yuuri’s heart did a little flip in his chest at the beauty and grace with which he executed the move. 

 _And there’s no mountain too high_  
_No river too wide_  

Victor swept into a camel combo spin, his body turning into a blur. Yuuri had seen enough pair skates that he assumed they’d be doing that part holding each other, with their legs extended opposite one another. 

 _Sing out this song and I’ll be there_  
_By your side_

Victor twirled upward, still pretending to hold his partner in some kind of pair combination spin.

 _Storm clouds may gather_  
_And storms may collide_  
_But I love you until the end of time_

Victor spun out, gaining speed toward the opposite side of the rink until he executed a perfect quad loop. Yuuri choked a little. Of course Victor would want them to do something so difficult side by side.

 _Come what may_  
_Come what may_  

Victor simulated another lift, his body moving over the ice in a slow spin as the music built in intensity. 

 _I will love you_  
_Until my dying day_  

He did a few twizzles, sweeping out of the last one in a grand arc, pretending to hold someone’s hand as he did every move. 

 _Oh come what may_  
_Come what may_  
_I will love you_  

The music slowed down, and Victor slowed to a halt, looking at his invisible partner. 

_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place_

Victor simulated one more lift, the light and love his eyes making Yuuri’s heart clench in his chest. 

 _He’s yours, now,_ the tiny voice in his head reminded him. _He’s yours, and you’re_ his _. This is how being with you makes him feel. And you get to be with him like this forever._  

 _Come what may_  
_Come what may_

Victor pulled the invisible partner down into a tight clasp. Yuuri’s vision was starting to blur, and he realized that he was crying.

_I will love you until my dying day._

When the music ended, Yuuri’s face was in his hands, tears streaming down.

Victor stopped right in front of him, breathing hard. “I need to work on some more stuff toward the end. It’s kind of a mix of ice dance and pair skate, but it’s not like we’re being judged, so we can kind of do whatever we want. Anyway…” he trailed off. “Yuuri, what’s wrong? Are you crying?” 

He took Yuuri by the shoulders. Yuuri dropped his hands to look up, giving him a watery smile.

“What is it, _zolotse_?” Victor looked genuinely concerned, worried even.

Yuuri sniffled. “You really do love me.” 

Victor opened his mouth slightly, then closed it, then opened it again. It made him look like a confused fish, which made Yuuri choke out another laugh. 

“I...I told you I did,” Victor said slowly.

“I know. I know you did.” Yuuri cupped Victor’s cheek. “And I believed you. But hearing it, and...and seeing it, seeing you _skate_ it...they are two very different things.”

Victor’s gaze softened. “Sometimes I’m at a loss for words to say how I really feel about you. But I can always show how I’m feeling on the ice.”

Yuuri let out a half-sob, unable to think of an adequate response to that. Instead, he pulled Victor down for a long, lingering kiss.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his own tears from Victor’s cheeks. 

Victor shook his head, lips curling upward. “Don’t be sorry, my darling. Now, want to get out here so we can start trying to learn some lifts?” 

“Okay.” Yuuri wiped his nose on his sleeve, stepping out onto the ice. “By the way, why am I always the one who has to be in the air?”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “I should think it’s obvious.”

“Are you saying I’m not strong enough to lift you?” 

“I’m saying it would be easier that way around.” 

“Hmph. I still think you’re making a joke about my height.” 

Victor blinked at him innocently, taking his hand. “Oh, I am.”

Yuuri punched him lightly on the shoulder with his free hand. “Jerk.” 

 

 

 

* * *

After practice, they paused to pull on their coats before walking out into the frigid air.

“Are we still going to a clinic today?” Yuuri asked, pulling on his hat.

Victor paused with his arm half in a sleeve, looking down at him. “You still want that?”

“I want it, yeah. If you do.” Yuuri smiled. “I mean, you know you’re the only person I’ve been with, so I’m pretty sure that I don’t have any STIs, but if it makes you feel safe…” 

Victor looked stunned for a moment. “I...I know you haven’t. I wanted to get tested for _you_. I have always been safe, and I haven’t been with anyone in the last six months, so if my tests are clean —”

“Victor,” Yuuri interrupted. “I know you’d never knowingly put me in danger.” He moved closer, taking Victor’s hand. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

The flush on Victor’s nose deepened. “I…” he shut his eyes, shaking his head once and reopening them. “I want that too. How about we do it when we get back to St. Petersburg? I have a doctor who is very discreet, and he gets tests back quickly.” 

Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, because he wanted to do it as soon as possible, but he could see why Victor wanted to go to the doctor he already trusted. It also wouldn’t really do for them to be papped going into a clinic together now—not when they’d already been married for a month.

“Alright,” he said. “When we get home then.” He kissed the back of Victor’s hand.

Victor smiled, shouldering the door open, still holding Yuuri’s hand. “Where should we go for lunch?” 

Cameras started flashing all around them, yet again, but they paid them no mind, walking quickly to the car.

“How about your favorite restaurant in Moscow? Since we have to leave soon.”

Victor tapped his finger against his lips as he opened the door for Yuuri. “Traditional Russian? Or any cuisine? There’s this truly delightful currywurst stand downtown. Oh but that tapas place I went to last summer is also lovely…” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes, sliding into the seat. “I should have known better than to ask you to choose a favorite when it comes to food.”

Victor pouted slightly, sliding in behind Yuuri and closing the door. Then his eyes lit up. “Oh, I know!” He said something in Russian to the driver, who nodded.

As the car pulled away, Yuuri took out his phone, opening the texting app and clicking on Phichit's name.

_Hey._

As usual, the response was almost immediate.

 _Yuuri so help me_  
_You’re going to give me a heart attack if_  
_you don’t fill me in on what’s happening ASAP_  
_I’ve been on pins and needles for DAYS._

 _Short version or long version?_  

_Short version first._

_He told me he loves me. And I told him back._

_AKSNFLKJNDSAJBFN;owjf;kanskfn;akjsnf_  
_A;ksfjndlkjsdnbalfjbelsdjabfjesbdfjhbeaejfbh_  
_;lksdfnlkdjnalfkjnsdlkjbfnljsdbflalkdsfjkjasdf_  
_Las;jnflkjabdnsjhfbjsbafheasbdfjlsdajhf_  
_OHMYGOD_

Yuuri laughed out loud. Victor glanced over at him, smiling. “Phichit?” he asked.

Yuuri nodded. “Yeah.” 

_How did it happen???????_

Yuuri chewed his bottom lip. This part was tricky; he couldn’t actually tell Phichit everything about Alexei, it wasn’t his story to tell.

 _He was scared to tell me, just like I was_  
_scared to tell him. But he was brave first._

 _I’m squealing so loud right now_  
_I think I scared one of my rink mates_    
_I’m so so happy for you. Really._  
_And I just want to say I TOLD YOU SO_

_You did. You were right._

_What else did he say?_  

 _Apparently he’d seen me skate at Skate America…_  
_and he’d been watching me skate and stuff ever since_

_SERIOUSLY???_

_Yeah, and he finally got the nerve to talk_  
_to me at the GPF banquet_

 _Katsuki Yuuri_  
_Are you telling me that Victor Nikiforov_  
_had a crush on you for months and months_  
_and you were convinced that he was just_  
_sleeping with you for money_

Yuuri felt his face heat. He hadn’t thought about it that way before.

_….I guess?_

_I want to hug you and smack you at the same_  
_time. Again._

_That seems to be happening a lot lately._

_I’ll say._

The speech bubble appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.

 _I’m so happy for you, Yuuri._  
_You deserve to be happy._

Yuuri felt tears welling in his eyes.

_Thanks Phich._

_I just have one demand: I’m best man._

_Did you forget that we’re already married?_

_But that wasn’t a WEDDING_  
_You gotta have a huge bash to celebrate_  
_this shit_  

 _Hah, well I’ll keep that in mind. It will have_  
_to wait till after Worlds in any case._

 _I can’t believe this, I’m going to be walking_  
_around on cloud nine for the rest of the day_  
_and it didn’t even happen to ME_  
_Are you just like, obscenely happy right now?_  

Yuuri glanced over at Victor, who was looking out the window, the afternoon sunlight glinting in his light eyelashes. 

_I don’t think I could be happier._

 

* * *

Between practice in the morning, a long lunch with Inessa, and some shopping downtown, the next day flew by quickly. Too soon they were saying their goodbyes to the Nikiforovs at the airport drop-off.

“Thank you so much for having us,” Yuuri said to Inessa, shouldering his backpack. 

Inessa sighed, her brow knit behind her sunglasses. “I wish you didn’t have to leave already. I know you have to get back to training, but we are going to miss you both.”

Yuuri smiled. “Me too. I really loved being here.” 

“Don’t be a stranger, котёнок **.** ” She sniffed, pulling him into a hug. “I know you already said you would, but take care of him for me, okay?”  

Yuuri glanced over to Victor, who was speaking with Vladimir in low tones. The first time she’d asked him that, he hadn’t known the full story about Victor’s past, but now he did.

“I will,” Yuuri said, hugging her tightly. “I promise.”

“I know. You’re a beautiful person, Yuuri, inside and out. I’m so glad he found you.” She released him, smiling broadly. 

Vladimir shook Victor's hand formally and walked over to Yuuri. He held out his hand, and Yuuri shook it, holding his gaze steadily. Vladimir said nothing, just nodding sternly. It seemed they’d come to understand each other, after a fashion.

Victor hugged Inessa, chattering away in Russian, and picked up his messenger bag. “Okay, ready, Yuuri?” 

Yuuri nodded, waved once more at Inessa, and they walked off toward security. Yuuri glanced over his shoulder once as they got to the doors. Inessa smiled and waved, but he could see a flash of true worry in Vladimir’s eyes.

 

 

* * *

The flight was blessedly short, and in just over an hour they were landing in St. Petersburg. 

Once again, they had to fight through the paparazzi to the waiting car, which was starting to feel like the new normal. Yuuri pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and held on tight to Victor’s hand as they strode quickly through the onslaught. He was starting to wonder how they knew where they were going all the time. 

During the drive to the apartment, Victor held his hand on the seat, texting with the other hand. Yuuri silently watched the snowy city pass by against the darkened sky. It had only actually been a little more than a week since they’d last been in St. Petersburg, yet it felt like eons. He’d changed so much since then...and their relationship had changed irrevocably.

The first time they’d driven through these streets, he’d had a feeling of foreboding, wondering what the future would hold. Now, though, with Victor holding his hand, Yuuri felt like he was going home.

When they finally arrived, they grabbed their suitcases from the trunk and walked quickly inside. Victor watched the numbers of the elevator eagerly, biting his lip. When the elevator stopped on a lower floor for someone to get on, Victor scowled. 

“Makka will still be there even if it takes a few more seconds, you know,” Yuuri teased. 

“I know,” Victor sighed.

The elevator doors finally opened on their floor, and Victor strode excitedly toward the apartment. 

When they reached the door, Victor looked in his messenger bag, digging around a bit. “Uh. Do you have the keys?”

Yuuri blinked at him. “Why would I have them?” 

“Didn’t I make you a set?”

“Not yet. I’d been using your guest keys, we left them inside before Yekaterinburg.” 

“Well we _definitely_ need to fix that.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat, coming up empty.

“Damn it,” Victor swore, digging through his messenger bag again. “I could have sworn that I put them in here…” 

Makkachin scratched excitedly at the door, yipping. 

“I know, I know Makka!” Victor called out. “Papa’s trying! Yuuri, _help me_.”

Yuuri wanted to laugh, but the intense desperation in Victor’s eyes made him relent.

“I’ll look in my suitcase, you look in yours.” 

After ten minutes, Yuuri finally eventually found the keys at the bottom of his own gear bag, of all places. 

“Why were they in there?” Victor made an exasperated noise, taking them from Yuuri’s outstretched hand and sliding the key into the lock.

The second he opened the door, Victor was immediately bowled over by Makkachin, who barked and licked his face.

Victor laughed, hugging him. Makkachin gave him another slobbery kiss before turning his attention to Yuuri. He barked again, jumping up to plant his front paws on Yuuri’s chest. 

“Hi, Makka,” Yuuri giggled. “I missed you too.” 

Makkachin licked him again, wagging his tail. Yuuri ruffled the fur on his head.

“C’mon, let’s get inside,” Victor said, getting up gingerly from his position on the floor. They dragged their suitcases into the hall.

“Let’s just leave them there for now, I’m too tired to unpack,” Victor said, stretching his arms up over his head.

Yuuri nodded, walking over to the kitchen and taking a glass out of the cabinet. “Want some water?” 

“No, thanks.” Victor sniffed his own shirt. “I need a shower. When I’m done we’ll figure out some food, okay?” Victor started stripping out of his shirt as he walked toward the bedroom, Makkachin following in his wake.

Yuuri chewed his lip, thinking about following, since Victor and showers were fast becoming one of his favorite things, but he’d been putting off a certain phone call for far too long. 

He downed most of the glass of water and took out his phone, flopping onto the couch, face up. He took a deep inhale and let the air out in a long whoosh, repeating it a few times, the way his therapist had taught him to.

Yuuri unlocked his phone, thumbing Mari’s name in his contacts. It rang a couple of times before picking up. 

“Yuuri?” Mari’s voice was muffled slightly, a lot of voices in the background.

“Hi, Mari. It’s me.” 

“Hold on a sec.”

He could hear footsteps, then a door opening and closing in the background. The cacophony was significantly decreased. 

“Okay, I’m out on the porch, I can hear you better out here. Everything okay?” she asked. He heard the click of her lighter as she lit a cigarette.

Yuuri fiddled with the bottom of his shirt. “Sounds busy over there. Do you have a lot of customers?”

“Yeah, bro, ever since you won Nationals, people have been begging for a spot here. It’s good, just exhausting. But I’m pretty sure that isn’t why you called.”

Yuuri sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. “So…you know that conversation we had on the porch the other day?”

The silence on the other side of the line was thick as lead. “What did he do to you?” she said slowly. 

Yuuri sat up. “What? No. No, Mari—” 

“Because I’ll buy a ticket to Russia right now just to Tonya Harding that guy, I don’t even care—” she interrupted. 

“Will you just _listen_?” Yuuri interrupted back. 

She made a noise of frustration in her throat. “Okay, you have five seconds to tell me.”

Yuuri screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t stall anymore; it was time to rip off the band-aid. “He does love me, I was wrong.” 

Mari inhaled sharply. “Wait. Did he tell you that?” 

“Yeah. I was such an idiot, I should have seen it before, but he was afraid to tell me. There were…” he cleared his throat. “Um. Extenuating circumstances.”

Mari paused again, and Yuuri could picture her expression: eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. “Extenuating circumstances.”

“Yeah. I can’t really say more about it.”

“And you believe him.” 

Yuuri felt taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t even considered that Victor wasn’t telling the truth; the look in his eyes when he’d said those three words—it had been far too genuine.

“Yes,” he breathed. “I believe him. I’m sorry that I told you that he didn’t love me, and made you…er. Not like him. I was wrong about him.”

Mari was silent for another long moment. “Did you tell him you love him back?”

Yuuri tucked his chin into his chest. “Yeah, I...yeah. I did.” 

“And?”

“And…” Yuuri closed his eyes, sighing, trying to figure out how to explain how it had felt, during the early hours of that grey morning, to finally, _finally_ , tell Victor that he loved him. It was still so new, and he wanted to keep part of it to himself. Himself and Victor.

“It was one of the best moments of my entire life,” he said. “I never thought I’d find someone I loved and who loved me back, not like this. He’s been through so much, he cares so deeply about people, everyone wants him…and he chose me, Mari. He chose _me_. And I chose him back.”

“Damn.” Mari’s voice cracked a little. “That’s...pretty beautiful, little brother.”

He smiled. “It is, isn’t it?”

“I’m happy for you. I’m especially happy that he’s not an asshole. Though I reserve the right to buy that lead pipe if he hurts you. Ever.”

Yuuri sobered a little. “Noted. But I sincerely hope that it will never be needed.”

“I better get back.” She paused. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“You too.” 

 

 

* * *

The evening was a leisurely one, involving chinese takeout—Yuuri let himself splurge on some beef lo mein—and You’ve Got Mail, with Makkachin draped over their laps. Victor had warned him that Makka was very clingy after long trips, but Yuuri didn’t mind in the slightest.

Later that night, they were bathroom together, getting ready for bed. As Yuuri brushed his teeth, he looked at Victor out of the side of his eye. There were things he still wanted to ask him, but he’d been afraid to, because everything still felt nebulous, wonderful and new. He hadn’t wanted to puncture the balloon of happiness they’d settled into.

Now, though, the little voice at the back of his head was starting to poke at him again, turn his stomach into knots.

“I can practically hear you thinking over there.” Victor spit out his toothpaste and rinsed out his mouth.

Yuuri froze, then spit out his toothpaste. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Victor raised an eyebrow as he started washing his face.

Yuuri sighed, putting his toothbrush in his cup. “So...the other night, you mentioned something about dancing with me, and kissing me, the night of the Banquet. Do you…” he cleared his throat. “Do you remember our wedding night?” 

Victor paused, then rinsed his face, taking time to dry it off. Yuuri’s heart was starting to pick up, the way it did when his anxiety was starting to spiral. He gripped the counter to keep his hand from shaking.

 _He does remember. Why did he lie?_  

Victor turned toward him, his eyes flicking to Yuuri’s hands. He pressed his lips together. “I just want you to know that I didn’t lie to you, that first day. I didn’t...I didn’t remember anything when we first woke up.” 

Yuuri felt his stomach drop. “So you do remember.” 

Victor winced. “I...I remember some things. Within the first couple of days, some hazy memories came back. I remember the Banquet itself, dancing with you...but I don’t remember getting married, in itself. That’s all black.”

Yuuri looked down at the counter. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?” 

“I was afraid that you’d be angry.” Victor took one hesitant step toward him, but Yuuri stepped back, holding his hand up. Victor froze, his jaw tightening. 

For a few long seconds, the only sound in the room was the drip of the faucet. Yuuri took some deep breaths, staring at the floor, trying to find an equilibrium, until he was able to speak again. “So you didn’t lie to get me to stay with you.” 

Victor inhaled sharply. “No, Yuuri, it...no. I just thought you’d be upset that I could remember and you couldn’t. That’s all.”

Yuuri swallowed, considering this. “You’ve kept a lot of your past from me, Victor. I know it was for good reason, some of it. A lot of it.” Yuuri forced himself to meet Victor’s gaze, his heart pounding in his ears. “But don’t…don’t do that again. Don’t lie to me, even by omission, even if you think it’s for the best. I can’t...I couldn’t bear it if you keep things from me.” 

He was trembling with the force of having to say all of it; he’d never had a partner before, not like this, and it was hard, it was _so_ hard to express his anxiety to Victor. 

Victor’s lower lip wobbled. “I won’t. I promise. I didn’t mean to…” he shook his head. “I’m sorry that I upset you. I really am.”

Yuuri nodded, looking down at his hand, white-knuckled from gripping the counter.

Victor took another step toward him. “Can I touch you?” 

Yuuri checked in with himself, then nodded again. “Yes.”

Victor encircled him with his arms, tucking Yuuri’s face into his neck. He started to feel the fear leach out of his muscles as Victor smoothed a hand down his back, soothing him. They stood there for a long time until his breathing had gotten back to normal. 

“Better?” Victor asked.

“Yeah.” Yuuri sighed. “What was it like?” he asked, after a brief pause. 

“What was what like?”

“The night we got married...whatever you remember of it.”

Victor considered for a moment. “You swept me off my feet. Quite literally. We danced together—tango, if I remember correctly—and then you had a pole dance-off with Chris—”

“I _what_?” Yuuri squawked, pulling back enough that he could look Victor in the eyes.

Victor grinned. “Yeah, you pole danced in front of the entire international skating community. I found some photos on my phone later, so I know it’s true.”

“Oh my god,” Yuuri hid his face in Victor’s neck. “That is unbelievably embarrassing.”

Victor chuckled. “It was actually unbelievably hot.” 

A shiver rippled down Yuuri’s spine. “It...it was?”

“I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you. And when you got down from the pole....” Victor swallowed. “I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. I kissed you.”

Yuuri pressed his lips together. “And?” 

“It was the best first kiss I’d ever had. I remember thinking I never wanted to kiss anyone else, ever again. Which was ridiculous, because we’d essentially just met. But that was how I felt.”

Yuuri closed his eyes, sighing. “I wish I could remember it.”

“I do too.”

Victor released him, slowly, and took his hand. “Let’s go to bed, my darling.”

Yuuri nodded, letting himself be led to their bed. He slid beneath the covers, and Victor climbed in behind him, immediately spooning him, wrapping him in all his limbs.

It was a little while until the remaining unease left him, but it finally faded, and Yuuri let sleep pull him under.

 

 

* * *

The next morning, they went to get their blood tests done and had a short practice before they were due at the photo shoot.

“You nervous?” Victor asked as they emerged from their town car at the set.

“Uh. Yeah, a little. I’ve never been featured on the cover of a major magazine, unlike _some_ people.”

Victor laughed. “You’ll be great. I promise.”

Nadiya met them outside. “Vitya,” she said, kissing both his cheeks. “How are you both?” 

“Uh, fine,” Yuuri said, stuffing his hands in his pockets so as to avoid having to embrace her. She grabbed him by the shoulders regardless and kissed him on each cheek. 

“Thanks for taking care of Makkachin,” Victor said. 

“Just doing my job. You pay me well enough.” She winked.

Victor rolled his eyes. “True.”

“He missed you a lot, though, I could tell. He’d sit and look at the door for hours on end, whining. Especially the last couple days.” 

Victor’s face fell. Yuuri glared at Nadiya, biting his tongue to keep himself from snapping at her. Victor obviously didn't need the reminder; he already felt guilty about leaving Makkachin alone for long periods of time.

Apparently oblivious to Yuuri’s ire, Nadiya cocked her head, leading them toward the set. 

“So this studio shoot for the cover is going to be first, then you’ll be going to a rink for action shots in the afternoon. Ah, here’s the photographer now, he wanted to chat with you before hair and makeup.” 

A man approached them, smiling widely. He was sporting a tight-fitting white v-neck shirt and dark jeans, his dark hair swept to the side. 

“Hi, I’m James. It’s so fantastic to meet the both of you.” His voice was deep and smooth, with a pleasant British accent.

“Hi,” Yuuri waved at him awkwardly.  

James smiled again, his teeth blindingly white. “I hope you brought your medals?”

“Yes,” Victor gestured to his messenger bag. 

“Good. The theme of the issue is going to be House of Gold, for obvious reasons.” James winked at Victor.

The possessive part of Yuuri’s hind-brain reared its ugly head. He straightened his back, shifting his body toward Victor a bit. 

Victor smiled politely, sliding his arm around Yuuri’s waist. “So we are going to be wearing the medals in the shoot?” 

“Yes. We will try some shots with your national team jackets on, but I might also do some with you just wearing t-shirts, so the medals stand out more. We also want to show off these beautiful muscles.” He touched Victor’s arm gently, tilting his head to the side. 

“Can we keep our rings on, too?” Victor held up his right hand, his wedding band flashing in the light.

James’s smile faltered briefly, then returned in full force. “Of course. I’ll let you get settled, but I just wanted to greet you before we start get into the swing of things. Nadiya, can you follow me? I have some questions.”

He winked again, this time at Yuuri. Yuuri blinked at him, stunned, as he walked away.

“Uh.” Yuuri glanced up at Victor. “What was _that_?”

Victor frowned. “What?”

Yuuri lifted his chin at James, who was now talking to the lighting crew. “He was flirting with you.”

Victor followed his gaze, his cheeks coloring. “Oh.”

“I mean, not that I blame him…” Yuuri tried to joke, but his throat was starting to close up a little, seeing the way James’s hair flashed in the light, the perfect cut of his jeans. He was international, beautiful, sophisticated, charming...everything Yuuri wasn’t. His feelings of inadequacy, which he’d managed to keep to a low level for a while, came back in full force. 

“Yuuri,” Victor turned toward him, taking him by the shoulders. “Please, look at me.”

Yuuri forced himself to meet Victor’s eyes. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m delusional, and that he was doing no such thing?”

Victor’s eyes flashed with hurt. “No—Yuuri, no. I wouldn’t gaslight you like that. No.” 

“Oh.” Yuuri didn’t think that this was the time to ask what gaslighting meant, so he made a mental note to look it up later. 

“I was going to say, um. That I’m used to men flirting with me,” Victor said slowly.

Yuuri scoffed, his jaw tightening even more. That didn’t exactly make him feel better.

Victor slid his fingers under Yuuri’s chin and lifted it until Yuuri was looking into his eyes again. “Will you let me finish?” he asked softly.

Yuuri nodded. 

“Just because someone flirts with me doesn’t mean I will flirt back. Didn’t you notice that when he was getting touchy, I moved closer to you? Put my arm around you? Showed him my ring?”

Yuuri swallowed, his heart rate still elevated, but he nodded again, starting to feel foolish.

“In these situations, sometimes, I have to be polite, but I still told him with every possible way that I’m taken. But I don’t want anyone but you. Am I making myself clear?”

Suddenly Yuuri felt ashamed. Victor was right; he hadn’t engaged with James at all—in fact, he’d very clearly used body language to dissuade him.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Victor, of course you didn’t do anything…” he looked over at James. “It’s just. Are you sure you don’t want someone like him?”

Now Victor looked confused. “What? Why would I want him?”

Yuuri shrugged. “He’s...I don’t know. Classy.”

“Classy,” Victor repeated flatly. 

“Sophisticated? Hot? I don’t know,” Yuuri started to turn away. “Like you,” he muttered.

Victor caught him by the arm. “I know your anxiety does strange things to your head, but it’s so frustrating to me that you don’t know how wonderful you are, in every way. You’re kind, and talented, dedicated, humble…and for the record, you’re _way_ hotter than James.”

“No m’not.”

“You are.” Victor leaned in so that he could whisper into Yuuri’s ear. “I told you, I wish I could have your thighs wrapped around my head at all times. And your eyes, they are like pools of chocolate, and when I’m caught in your gaze while you skate…” Victor shuddered. “And your ass. Have I said enough things about your glorious ass? And your cock—” 

Yuuri flushed, pushing him away a little. “Okay, okay, stop it. We’re in public, jeez.”

Victor kept him in his grip, starting to kiss his face all over until he broke out in giggles, all traces of his anxiety gone. 

“Okay, break it up, love birds,” Nadiya chirped, appearing before them again with a man and woman in tow. “We have work to do. Victor, you’ll be with Max for hair and makeup.”

The tall man standing next to her, who had intelligent eyes and an undercut, smiled. “Nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand to Victor.

“Likewise.” Victor smiled, shaking it. “See you in a bit.” He pecked Yuuri on the cheek and followed Max to a makeup stand.

“Yuuri, you’ll be with Mona here.” Nadiya gestured toward the tiny woman next to her, who waved, grinning. She had a platinum pixie cut, her bangs streaked with magenta, and she was wearing torn skinny jeans and a graphic tank that declared “I can’t even think straight” in block letters. 

Yuuri nodded at her, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Nadiya said, her heels clicking as she walked away.

“This way.” Mona led him toward a makeup station set up nearby. As Yuuri sat down, she put a makeup bib around his neck. 

“Alright, so for this first shoot, I’m just supposed to make you look pretty. Which is going to be easy, because you’re already pretty.” 

Yuuri laughed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, right.” 

Mona paused, hand on her hip. “I can’t tell if you’re just being humble or if you’re one of those gorgeous people who actually doesn’t think they’re gorgeous.”

Yuuri felt his cheeks heat. “You sound like my husband. I would definitely never describe myself as ‘pretty.’”

“Hmmm. So it’s the latter then.”

Mona took out some brushes—Yuuri had never seen so many different kinds of makeup brushes in his life—and several shades of foundation.

“I have to find your skin tone first,” she said, painting a few different lines near his chin. “I have a general range to work from, but it’s always different when you’re in person.”

“Okay,” Yuuri nodded. 

“That’s the one,” she said eventually, cleaning off his jaw and putting everything away except the winning tube. She started brushing the makeup all over his face, which tickled a little. Yuuri closed his eyes and tried to relax his facial muscles.

“So, uh, in the interest of full disclosure, I just have to tell you something,” Mona said casually.

Yuuri opened one eye. “What is it?”

Mona continued to work. “Um...I’m kind of a huge fan of yours? I used to figure skate back in the day. I even have posters of you on my wall.”

“Really?” 

Mona nodded. “My girlfriend joked I was going to leave her for you when I found out that I was going to be doing your makeup. I told her not to be biphobic. She glared, I stomped, it was a whole thing.” She rolled her eyes.

Yuuri shrugged, smiling.“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m taken.”

“Damn straight you are. Well, not straight. Not straight _at all_.” She winked, and Yuuri laughed. “But lucky you, landing Victor Nikiforov. When the news broke that he was taken, men were weeping in the streets. It was like an international day of mourning.”

“Well, what can I say, you snooze you lose,” Yuuri quipped.

Mona giggled, and Yuuri grinned even wider. They continued to chat as she worked, talking about everything and nothing. It turned out that Mona had grown up in a small town in Alabama, and had gotten a scholarship to University of Michigan. Eventually she had realized that she really didn’t want to study philosophy after all, dropped out and moved to L.A. to pursue a career doing makeup on TV shows. They bonded over how horrible the winters were in the Great Lakes Region, something neither of them had been prepared for. As she worked on his eyes, Mona waxed nostalgic about skating. She’d had an injury in her teens and had to give it up, but that she still always followed every competition on TV. Yuuri felt much more at ease with her than he usually did with strangers; Mona seemed like the kind of person he could actually be friends with. Her no-bullshit attitude reminded him a bit of Phichit.

“Okay, kid, you’re all ready,” she said, finally.

He looked at himself in the mirror: his skin was smooth, his eyes highlighted with a dark green liner that made them look a more saturated brown, lips stained just a shade darker than normal. His hair was gelled stylishly but not slicked back. 

“You’re magic,” he said. “Now I see why my best friend is constantly going on and on about the merits of eyeliner.”

“A little makeup can go a long way.” She removed his bib. “See you before the other shoot. Have fun.”

He was led by an assistant over to a dark grey flat set, where Victor was already waiting for him. His hair was styled elegantly, and his eyes were highlighted with subtle dark brown eyeliner and mascara.

“Wow,” Victor said, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.

Yuuri grinned up at him. “You’re not looking so bad yourself." 

James was adjusting his tripod. “Okay, please stand together in the middle of the set so we can test the lighting." 

“Are you ready?” Victor asked. An assistant stuck a light meter directly under their noses.

“As I’ll ever be,” Yuuri said, taking Victor’s hand, a wave of affection for him bursting in his chest.

“Oh, that’s good, stay like that.” The camera started clicking at a high rate, bulb flashing.

Yuuri glanced over, unable to help himself.

“Okay, never mind, it was cute though,” James laughed. “Let’s try this. Victor, stand behind Yuuri. Yuuri, look directly at the camera, arms crossed. A little lower, so we can see your medal. Yuuri, try to keep your expression blank but also intimidating. Chin down a little. That’s good.” 

They did as directed. Once James was satisfied, he walked behind the camera again, and started clicking away at an astounding rate.

It was odd being surrounded by people, all of whom were staring at the two of them. Yuuri felt every one of his muscles tense, and he couldn’t quite seem to school his expression into something resembling “blank but intimidating.” He had a feeling he probably just looked like he was in pain. 

After a couple of minutes, James stood back from the camera, frowning. “Okay, jackets off. I think I want to see those medals against just the t-shirts.” 

Yuuri nodded, unzipping his Japanese National Team jacket. He was wearing a simple, well-fitted black v-neck, while Victor was wearing a white crew neck.

“Oh, much better. The jackets were too busy. Back in the pose, please?” 

Yuuri crossed his arms again, facing forward. He could feel Victor’s presence behind him, which helped a little, but he felt stiff, unnatural. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention.

“Relax, Солнышко,” Victor said, moving a bit closer to him. 

Yuuri dropped his arms, turning toward Victor. “This is harder than it looks,” he said honestly. “I’m...too aware of everyone looking at us.”

Victor reached up to skim his thumb over Yuuri’s cheek. “Just concentrate on me for a minute. It’s just you and me, okay? Just us.” 

Yuuri sighed, leaning into the touch, feeling himself relax. “Okay.” 

“Oh Jesus, that’s fantastic,” he could hear James say. “Move a little closer, please?” 

Yuuri rested his hands on Victor’s forearms, stepping a little closer, pulled into Victor’s orbit just like always. He met Victor’s eyes, letting himself fall into that deep blue gaze that was his whole world, and everything else began to fade away. 

“That’s goddamn beautiful,” he could hear James mutter. Several more camera flashes went off, but it all felt far away now.

“Feel better?” Victor asked softly. 

“It’s much easier when I can look at you,” Yuuri admitted. 

Victor’s smiled, his true smile, the one Yuuri knew was just for him. He almost wanted to tell Victor not to smile like that, because now it would be on the cover of a magazine, and wouldn’t be reserved for Yuuri.

Eventually the camera flashes stopped. “Okay, I want to try something…both of you turn your bodies toward the camera now. Victor, stand behind Yuuri, but keep touching each other, and keep looking at each other.” 

They did as they were told, shifting so that Yuuri was standing just in front of Victor. Victor’s hands slid around his waist, and Yuuri rested his head on the Victor’s shoulder. 

“Gorgeous,” he heard James say.

“It doesn’t look too...prom photo-y?” Yuuri quipped. 

Everyone laughed. 

“No, it doesn’t, I promise,” James replied. “Yuuri, look directly to your left now? Victor, look at me.”

Yuuri did as he was told, relaxing back into Victor’s chest as the camera flashes resumed.

The rest of the shoot was a blur, but a much more pleasant one, because Victor never let him go.

 

 

* * *

They had to relocate to an unused skating rink for the second half of the shoot. Victor was going to be photographed first, so Yuuri just waited by the boards, watching the fracas that was a professional photo shoot. 

Victor had his _Stammi Vicino_ outfit on, his eyes highlighted in a shimmering gold eyeshadow that made them look even more blue than usual, his skin pure alabaster. He looked, in a word, stunning.

He was speaking to James, nodding, gesturing out toward the ice. James laughed, touching Victor’s shoulder briefly. Victor smiled his media smile, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the touch. 

Despite their earlier conversation, Yuuri felt a dark prickle of jealousy again. He knew Victor wasn’t encouraging it, not at all; but for some reason, he felt a visceral need to stake his claim to Victor. 

Victor nodded again, pushing off and gliding to center ice. The music began and he started his routine, facing the camera as much as possible, lights flashing over and over.

Given the limitations of cameras and lighting, James had warned them both that they were only going to be able to do moves on one half of the rink. As Yuuri watched, he tried to learn how to keep himself in the line of the camera, to get the best angles. Victor was probably used to this kind of thing, since he’d done dozens of photo shoots for magazine covers and posters.

Mona appeared at his elbow. “Ready, spaghetti?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri took one last glance at Victor before following her back to a makeshift makeup stand. He plopped down in front of the mirror.

“So, you’re skating Eros, right?” Mona said, tilting her head and looking at him appraisingly. “What are you thinking?”

Yuuri pressed his lips together. “I want to look hot. _Really_ hot,” he said.

Mona laughed, a pleasant, tinkling sound. “I think we can manage that. Any ideas in particular?”

Yuuri nodded. “I never really play with makeup much, but maybe something kind of dramatic? I don’t want to look completely...masculine, if that makes sense? The whole point of the piece is that I’m playing with gender. You’ve seen my costume, I assume…something that will complement it?”

Mona patted his shoulder. “I’ll take care of you, honey. Don’t you worry.”

She turned his chair around, working quickly but deftly. When she swung his chair back around, Yuuri gasped, hardly recognizing himself. 

Mona had slicked his hair back, like he normally did for performances, and used some kind of product to make it shine in the light. She’d used liquid foundation to smooth out his skin again, a bit of blush to make his cheekbones stand out. She’d also applied red lip gloss to make his lips look much more luscious than usual. 

His eyes, though, were the piece de resistance: she’d used an iridescent dark grey eyeshadow to create a smokey eye, fading to silver at his lids. To top it all off, she’d used volumizing mascara and winged eyeliner that would make Phichit cry tears of joy. 

“Victor’s gonna _freak_ ,” she said, satisfied. 

“Mona,” he breathed, awestruck. “Can I hire you full time?” 

Mona laughed again. “Oh honey, I wish. But unless you need your makeup done every single day, it’s probably not worth it.” 

“I’m considering it just based on this single day alone,” Yuuri joked. “But maybe I could at least fly you out for Worlds.” 

Mona jumped up and down. “Oh my god, I’d love to. I’ll just have to see what dates it is and make sure I’m not already booked.” 

An assistant appeared next to them. “Yuuri, we’re ready for you.” 

“Better get changed.” Mona shooed him away.

Yuuri hurried to put on his costume in the changing room. As he walked out to the ice, he spotted Victor, who had showered and was already back in his street clothes.

When his eyes alighted on Yuuri, he blinked, staring at him as if stunned.

“Yuuri, you look…” he trailed off, sinking his teeth into his lower lip.

Yuuri smirked. “That good, eh?”

Victor gulped, seemingly out of words. Amused, Yuuri removed his skate guards and stepped out onto the ice. He leaned over the boards and grabbed Victor by the collar, pulling him close so that his mouth was right next to his ear.

“Watch me when I’m out there, Victor. Don’t take your eyes off me.” 

“I won’t.” Victor’s soft breaths warmed Yuuri’s cheek. 

Yuuri smiled slowly. “I’m going to go out there and show my love to the entire world.”

He skated away, glancing over his shoulder. Victor’s eyes were glued to Yuuri, his nose and cheeks pink.

After taking some perfunctory instructions from James, Yuuri moved to center ice, settling into his opening Eros pose, hips tilted. As the music began, Yuuri flicked his hands down to his hips, stomping his foot forward. He snapped his head over to look at Victor, biting his lip and giving him a smoldering look. 

 _I own you_ , his look said. _You’re_ mine. 

As the guitar began to sing, Yuuri swept into the beginning step sequence, his body moving mostly through muscle memory so that he barely had to think about the movements anymore. He flew over the ice, twisting and turning easily. 

 _I’m the only one you want. I’m what you need. You know it, deep to your core._  

He’d seduced Victor on the ice before—or at least, tried to—but this was different. While he had once been the siren call of desire, now his entire being sung with the pleasure he had already given to Victor, and would give him far into the future. 

At the end of the step sequence he smirked at James, who was still taking photos.

_I know you want him, but the only one who Victor wants is me. I’m the only one who can satisfy him, bring him to his knees._

He threw his leg up into a camel spin, the sequins on his costume winking in the light.

_Are you watching me Victor? Everyone in this room is watching me, but this is all for you. Only you._

Yuuri pulled out of the spin. He flicked his hands down as he gained speed, leading with the spread eagle into a perfect triple axle. He swept his hands down his form, letting his body bend and flex in the slow build to the climax. 

_This is the pleasure I’ll bring you. My lips on your skin, my cock inside of you, pushing you farther and farther into ecstasy. Until you’re drowning in it, until you never want to come up for air again._

The salchow, which had once caused him so much trouble, was like the rise and fall of an ocean wave; landing was smooth as glass. He started the last step sequence, giving Victor another heated look as he swept by him. Victor’s nose was flushed, his eyes dark. 

_I’ll be inside you, over you, encompassing you. I won’t stop until you’re gasping my name. Mine alone._

He swept into his final spin, every single limb of his body singing with it. _Mine._

 

 

 

* * *

After running through the routine a few times, allowing for James to take pictures from multiple angles, Yuuri glided to the edge of the ice, grabbing his water bottle.

James spoke to his assistant for a bit before walking over to them.

“I think that’s a wrap for both of you,” he said.

Yuuri nodded. “This was fun. Thank you.” 

“The pleasure was definitely all mine.” James’s gaze flicked down Yuuri’s form, and up again to meet his eyes. “I hope to do you both again soon!” he called over his shoulder as he walked away, sounding somehow offhand and salacious at the same time.

Yuuri blinked after him. _He never gives it a rest, does he?_ “I can’t imagine what it’s like to have that kind of confidence,” he said aloud. 

Victor said nothing, simply standing at his elbow, vibrating with energy. 

“I better go change, and then we can go, okay?” Yuuri slid his skate guards on his blades.

Victor glanced around, leaning in close. “Leave the costume on.” 

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “Uh...why?”

“Just...leave it on.”

Yuuri glanced at him. His eyes had a hard edge and his breathing was elevated.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Yuuri sunk his teeth into his lower lip.

“Yes,” Victor breathed, the flush on his cheeks deepening. “You _know_ it is.”

Yuuri let his eyes go lidded as he slid a finger below Victor’s chin. “Here?” he asked.

“No, I...even if we could find somewhere to be alone, I don’t think I could be quiet enough.”

Yuuri chuckled. “Well then, let’s see if we can get out of here.”

They made their excuses as quickly as possible and headed out into the night. The ride home was full of anticipation; Victor’s breathing was erratic, the very air between them electric. Yuuri forced himself to look out the window, because if he looked at Victor, he’d probably jump him right there in the backseat. 

The second the elevator doors closed in the apartment building, Victor pushed Yuuri up against the wall, crushing their mouths together. 

Yuuri inhaled sharply, but recovered quickly and immediately started kissing Victor back, hard. Victor pressed up against him until their erections slid against each other through their clothes. Yuuri moaned, grasping Victor’s ass and pulling him closer so that they could rut against each other. 

“You looked so fucking sexy out there,” Victor gasped, kissing along Yuuri’s jaw to nip at his earlobe. “I got hard just watching you.” 

“In the middle of a photo shoot?” Yuuri laughed breathlessly.

“ _Yes_. You’re like sex on ice when you skate that routine. Even more so today than usual, especially with that makeup, god. I know you were doing it on purpose.”

“So what if I was?” Yuuri lifted his chin daringly.

“Every single person in that room wanted you, and I’m the only one who gets to, I’m—” he didn’t finish his sentence, kissing Yuuri on the mouth again. 

Yuuri moaned, leaning into the kiss. Victor kept moving his hips, grinding against him until Yuuri was fully hard. He gasped, his head falling back against the wall, thinking fleetingly that if this didn’t stop soon, he was going to come right in the elevator. 

Luckily, the elevator dinged on their floor at that moment. _Saved by the bell_ , Yuuri thought.

Victor grabbed his hand, pulling him to their door. He took out his keys with shaky fingers, and after a long few seconds, he got the door unlocked. He gave Makkachin a perfunctory pat on the head as he pulled Yuuri by the wrist to the bedroom...but he didn’t stop at the bed, heading instead into the bathroom. 

“What are you doing?” Yuuri asked. 

“I want you to take me in here,” Victor said, turning around. He palmed Yuuri’s cock through his costume, leaning in to whisper into his ear. “Over the counter.”

“Fuck.” Yuuri’s eyes fluttered closed, his hips bucking into the touch. 

Victor chuckled, the sound like velvet in Yuuri’s ears. “I’ve been imagining this ever since you put on that costume in the bathroom on Christmas.”

Yuuri opened his eyes. “Oh god, really? That day, I...I wanted you so badly.” He felt his cheeks redden, remembering what he’d done when Victor had left the room. 

“Mmmm, me too,” Victor leaned in to suck on Yuuri’s neck. “Will you? Fuck me?” 

Yuuri’s breath caught. “Yes, of course, yes.”

Victor’s eyes lit up, and Yuuri suddenly felt an irrepressible urge to take him hard, to make him scream his name.

He pressed Victor bodily up against the counter, slanting their mouths together again. Victor went a bit boneless, his fingertips pressing into Yuuri’s chest, which just turned Yuuri on even more. Yuuri pressed his tongue into the heat of Victor’s gorgeous, plush mouth as he unzipped Victor’s national team jacket, peeling it off his shoulders. He rucked his shirt up so that he could skim his fingers over Victor’s taut stomach, then trailed his fingers under the waistband of his pants, palming Victor’s cock over his underwear. “Yuuri, _please_ ,” Victor moaned into his mouth.

Yuuri leaned in to suck at the juncture of Victor’s neck and shoulder, continuing to stroke his hard cock. Victor shuddered, his hands fisting in the back of Yuuri’s costume like he was holding on for dear life.

He felt Victor’s cock jump as he sucked another love bite into his collarbone, and suddenly, the only thing he wanted was to taste Victor’s cock, to swallow him down until he couldn’t breathe. 

Yuuri kissed the blooming skin beneath his lips once more and went to his knees, nuzzling into Victor’s cock through his underwear. Victor threw his head back a little, his Adam’s apple rising and falling as he swallowed, his eyes fluttering closed.

“This okay?” Yuuri asked, running his nose up the clothed shaft.

Victor laughed breathlessly. “I appreciate you asking, but the answer is always going to be yes.” 

Yuuri grinned, pulling just the head of Victor’s cock over the waistband, licking and teasing at it. The flush in Victor’s cheeks was starting to trail down to his chest, his breaths coming in short gasps. He slid his hand through Yuuri’s hair, which was a bit difficult with all the gel, the other hand clutching the edge of the counter so hard that his knuckles were turning white. Yuuri enveloped the entire head with his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, and Victor’s eyes fluttered closed. 

Yuuri stopped licking, digging his fingernails into Victor’s thigh. “Look at me,” he said.

Victor’s eyes blinked open, his pinked lips parting as he panted.

“Don’t stop looking at me. Keep your eyes on me, only me, got it?”

Victor nodded quickly, and Yuuri smiled. “Good.”

He freed Victor’s cock the rest of the way, giving it a few strokes before sliding his mouth down the shaft as far as he could go without choking.

“Yuuuuri,” Victor moaned, his accent so thick that the ‘r’ almost sounded like a purr. 

He groaned around Victor’s cock, palming himself through his costume. He was already unbelievably hard, tasting Victor on his tongue and having him completely at his mercy. He hadn’t gone down on him that many times yet, but Victor was so vocal that it was easy to read his reactions, to know what made him feel good.

Yuuri bobbed up and down, stroking the base, moving his hand down to fondle Victor’s balls as he sucked. When Victor started to tremble, he stroked down the perineum to Victor’s hole, massaging in slow circles.

Victor bit his lip, stifling another groan, but he didn’t stop looking at Yuuri for a second. Yuuri teased at the head with his tongue again, the intensity of Victor’s sharp arousal spurring him on. He kept massaging Victor’s hole with his finger, and Victor bucked into the movements, his breaths coming more quickly. 

Yuuri took him all the way in again, swallowing around his cock as he continued to massage the rim of his hole. 

“Stop,” Victor gasped. “Yuuri, _stop_ , I’m going to come if you keep going, please…please,” he begged, trying to pull Yuuri off.

Yuuri let Victor’s cock fall, turning his head to rest his cheek against Victor’s hip, taking some deep breaths so that he wouldn’t come in his pants. He didn’t think he’d ever been this aroused before his cock had even been touched.

“I need you inside me, please,” Victor panted, combing through Yuuri’s hair with his fingers. 

Yuuri turned to look at him again. “I told you I’d fuck you, don’t you worry. I intend to keep that promise. Where are the condoms and lube?” 

“Middle drawer.” 

Yuuri turned to take them out. “Take off your clothes and face the mirror,” he said roughly.

Victor immediately took off his shirt, throwing it aside, shucking his pants the rest of the way and stepping out of them. He leaned over the counter, arching his back and putting his ass on full display. He looked over his shoulder, bangs falling into his lidded eyes. 

“God, your ass,” Yuuri breathed, kneading the cheeks with both hands and pulling the globes apart, exposing his hole. His mouth watered, thinking about licking him there as Victor had done to him; but he was too tightly wound for that now. He needed to get inside of Victor, immediately, and Victor seemed to need it just as much.

He slicked up the fingers on one hand and began to massage Victor open. He worked one finger in slowly, leaning down to kiss along Victor’s shoulder blades.

“You’re so unbelievably beautiful,” he whispered. 

Victor’s eyes fluttered closed, arching into Yuuri’s finger, pressing back to take it in further.

Yuuri stopped immediately. Victor’s eyes flew open, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Wh—why did you stop?” 

“You weren’t looking at me,” Yuuri said calmly. 

Victor’s his pupils were wide, his nose and cheeks flushed deep pink. “I’m looking now,” he said. “I won’t stop watching you. I won’t.”

Yuuri held his gaze as he started moving his finger again, then started working in a second one.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, the room so quiet other than the sound of the lube around his fingers and their breathing.

“Yes, god, Yuuri,” Victor choked out.

Yuuri worked in a third finger, reaching around to stroke Victor’s cock as he did so. Victor moaned loudly, his chest starting to flush deeply, the way it did when he was really aroused.

Yuuri curled his fingers just so, rubbing the bundle of nerves Victor had showed him, and Victor keened, dropping onto his elbows. “Oh, my god, oh my god.” 

Yuuri kept stroking him and fingering him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.It was obviously hard for him to keep his eyes open, but he somehow managed it. 

“Yuuri, I...” he panted, after a few more minutes of this torture. “I’m ready.” 

Yuuri bit his lip. “I want to hear you beg.” He rubbed over Victor’s prostate again.

Victor moaned, his eyelids fluttering. “Please, Yuuri, please. Fuck me. _Please_.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll take care of you.” Yuuri kissed the small of his back as removed his fingers slowly. He unzipped the fly of his costume and rolled on a condom, slicking himself up as he moved closer. He pressed the head against Victor’s hole. 

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for days,” he whispered.

They both groaned as he slowly sunk into the tight heat. He rocked into Victor, teasingly, a bit further in with each thrust. When he was all the way in, he paused for a moment, smoothing his hands up Victor’s back, letting him adjust.

“Move,” Victor croaked. 

“You’re still so tight,” Yuuri breathed. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“I’m open enough, please, just do it.”

Yuuri kissed the back of his neck, straightening up again. “Okay, I’m going to give you what you want.” He rolled his hips back, groaning at the drag against Victor’s insides, and thrust in hard, eliciting a grunt from Victor.

“More.” Victor braced himself against the counter, holding himself steady.

Yuuri didn’t need to be told twice. He started thrusting in long, hard strokes, gripping Victor hard by the hips. 

“Fuck, yes.” Victor leaned into the thrusts until they were at the right angle, biting his lip. 

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” 

“Yes, yes.” Victor nodded. “Harder, Yuuri, please—” 

Yuuri leaned back to grip his hips, snapping inward harder, burying himself deep, exactly where he’d wanted to be all afternoon. 

“God, yesssss,” Victor hissed. 

Yuuri picked up the pace, feeling hot all over, his hips slapping against Victor’s plush ass.

“Fuck, yes, Yuuri, fuck me, god—”

Victor shifted his weight onto one hand, reaching down to stroke himself, but Yuuri batted his hand away. “Not yet. You don’t get to come until I want you to.”

He thrust in even harder, and Victor moaned loudly, his eyes wide, still watching Yuuri in the mirror.

Yuuri slid his fingers into Victor’s hair, tugging his head back as he drove into him, hard and deep. Victor let out a deep-throated groan, which just spurred Yuuri on, wanting to drive Victor over the edge, drive him mad with pleasure...but also claim him, show him that there was no one else. 

Continuing to meet Yuuri thrust for thrust, Victor reached back to hold one of Yuuri’s hands over his hip, clenching their fingers together.

“Yuuri,” he panted.

Yuuri kept thrusting hard, looking at him in the mirror.

“Let me come.” Victor moaned at a particularly hard thrust. “Please. Let me come.” 

“Tell me you’re mine first.” 

“W-What?” 

“You’re mine, aren’t you, you’re mine,” Yuuri panted, continuing to drive into him, his hips smacking hard against Victor’s ass.

Victor’s eyes were glistening, the muscles of his back shifting as he held himself up. “I’m yours, Yuuri, yours—”

“Mine—”

“Yours—”

Yuuri reached down to stroke Victor’s cock in time with his thrusts. Victor arched his neck upward, his eyes finally falling closed, and let out a scream, and he was pulsing in long ropes onto the floor.

Driving in hard a few more times, Yuuri’s vision whited out and he emptied himself into Victor’s body, collapsing over Victor’s back, panting hard. Victor’s body was still shuddering around him, wringing out a particularly long orgasm.

After a minute, Victor reached back to tug at Yuuri. “Yuuri. I don’t think I can hold us both up much longer.”

Yuuri’s head snapped up. “Sorry.” He pulled out slowly, making them both groan. 

Victor leaned his head against the counter for a little longer, then slowly straightened up, turning to Yuuri. His face was streaked with tears.

Yuuri’s heart sank. “Victor, I—I’m sorry, was I too...was it too rough? Are you alright? You should have said something—” 

Victor blinked at him. “What? No, Yuuri, that was exactly what I asked for, what are you—” 

Yuuri reached up and brushed the tears from his cheek. “Then why were you crying?” 

Victor touched his own cheeks, as if he hadn’t realized that the tears were even there, licking his lips.

“I told you this is what I wanted. I meant it. I...I’m just not used to…” he faltered.

Yuuri gulped, still feeling uncertain. He didn’t want anything about what they had—what they did in bed, or out of it—to cause Victor pain, to remind him of his past. The idea that he had done anything to make Victor cry caused his anxiety to spike automatically.

“I don’t want to lie to you, I’m...I’m kind of worried…” Yuuri said haltingly.

Victor shook his head quickly. He moved closer, slipping two fingers under Yuuri’s chin and tipping his face upward. “Please, please don’t be. I’m just having trouble putting this into words. I’ve never had someone who cared so much about me, about giving me what I want, who I loved, that also loved me, and that I trusted wholly and completely like this. That’s all. I...it’s just emotional, still, for me. To have sex like this. To have craved this kind of intimacy with someone for so long and then to get it.” He sniffed a little, pressing his lips together. “It’s an emotional release I’ve never come close to before. Does that...make sense?”

Yuuri felt his heart melting. “Oh. I...oh.”

Victor slid his hands around Yuuri’s waist. “That was incredible. Thank you for giving it to me.” 

“It was pretty good for me too.” Yuuri smiled.

Victor smiled back. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” 

He tilted his head up and Victor leaned down until their lips met, sliding together slowly. His whole body, his whole being felt alight with the love he felt for Victor. They kissed for a long time, until Victor pulled back with a contented sigh.

He brushed a bit of Yuuri’s hair out of his eyes. “Now let’s get in the shower, shall we? Want me to unzip you? You must be hot in that.” 

Yuuri nodded, turning around. Victor’s breath caught a little as he started pulling down the zipper. 

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you fucking me while wearing this costume,” Victor said, still sounding a bit out of breath. 

Yuuri smiled to himself. “I had some of my own fantasies involving it. On Christmas." 

Victor’s hand paused. “Oh?” 

“Specifically, that you’d kiss down my back as you unzipped it.” 

In a heartbeat, Victor’s lips were on the skin that was being unveiled as he pulled the zipper down slowly. Yuuri gasped, shivering.

“I’m going to get hard again if you keep...doing that,” Yuuri panted, his head rolling on his neck.

Victor chuckled into his skin. “I’m counting on it.” 

Yuuri let out a long exhale as Victor’s mouth worshipped every inch of his skin, wondering how he’d gotten so unbelievably lucky.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> котёнок = kitten  
> Солнышко = my sun
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Several people (including the gold medalists in ice dance, Moir and Virtue!) used Come What May for their music this year in the Olympics, so I’m sure the fact that I chose it for their pair skate seems very unoriginal. However, I had planned to use that for Victor and Yuuri's pair skate routine long before I found out that others had used that music. C’est la vie!
> 
> Someone pointed out to me that Nadiya is probably more of a manager than a publicist. I say, why can’t she be both? Both is good. So yeah, she’s Victor’s manager too.
> 
> I have no idea if an entire team for Sports Illustrated would travel to the person who is going to be on the cover in order to do the shoot instead of the other way around. It was easier than having them travel to the U.S. for one chapter. So if it’s not what normally happens, suspend your disbelief a bit.
> 
> You’ll notice, I’m sure, that Yuuri’s anxiety isn’t cured even though he’s now in an established relationship with Victor. Clinical anxiety doesn’t go away just because you have a loving partner (sadly, I know this first hand). Yuuri is lucky that he has an understanding partner who is willing to listen and help him through it.
> 
> I’m guessing there will be about five (???) more chapters of this fic, for those of you who have asked, but knowing me it could be longer (shrugging emoji).


	15. Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor competes in European Championships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to all my lovely readers. As of yesterday, this fic is one year old! It’s now over 150k words, and has more hits, kudos and comments than I could ever have imagined when I posted the first chapter. Thank you for all your comments and enthusiasm, I appreciate them more than I can possibly say.
> 
> Thank you so much to my rock, [longhornletters](http://longhornletters.tumblr.com/), who has spent countless hours working diligently on this fic and has contributed greatly to what it is today.
> 
> Thank you as well to [rogovich](https://rogovich.tumblr.com/) for her tireless efforts on the Russian translations.

The sunlight slanted through the shades, bathing the bed in staccatoed light when Yuuri’s alarm went off, the ring shrill in the relative silence of the room.

“Turn—turn it off,” Yuuri groaned. 

Victor reached out to grab the phone, nearly knocking it from the side table in his haste.

Once it was silenced, Victor threw the phone down on the mattress and replaced his hands on Yuuri’s hips. 

Yuuri laughed a little breathlessly, continuing to roll himself downward onto Victor’s cock. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, so everything was a little fuzzy, but he could see that Victor’s mouth was open a little. He gasped softly with Yuuri’s movements, the lovely flush on his neck spreading down to his chest.

It had been a couple of days since they’d gotten their test results back, but this was the first time they’d had penetrative sex without condoms. Yuuri closed his eyes, rolling his hips down into every inch of Victor’s cock, luxuriating in the glorious heat of him without latex. 

He leaned back a little and felt himself hit the right angle.

“Ah, fuck,” he moaned, bracing himself on Victor’s thighs, rising and falling on that spot over and over again. He could feel himself clenching around Victor’s cock, getting close.

“Can I?” Victor asked hoarsely. 

Yuuri nodded, and Victor planted his feet on the ground so that he could start thrusting upward with more force. 

“Ah, god, _yes_ ,” Yuuri moaned, letting his head hang back as Victor thrust up perfectly into him.

“You look so gorgeous, you’re taking my cock so well,” Victor gasped in between thrusts. 

Yuuri bit his lip, his eyes fluttering closed as he reached for his own cock. 

But before he could start stroking himself, Victor sat up, grabbing him by the shoulders and twisting him down onto the bed. Yuuri landed with a soft thud on the mattress.

“Are you okay?” Victor huffed, hair in his eyes.

Yuuri huffed out a laugh. “Yes, yes, I’m fine, c’mon.” He folded his knees back toward his ears, guiding Victor’s cock back into his slick hole with one hand. Once the head slipped past the ring of muscle, Victor didn’t immediately thrust up into him hard like he expected; instead, he started moving in long, smooth, rolling thrusts designed to drive Yuuri absolutely insane. 

Yuuri bit his lip, arching up off the mattress to meet each thrust as Victor leaned in to suck at his pulse point. With every snap of his hips, his chest brushed against Yuuri’s still-untouched, sensitive cock.

“Victorrrr,” Yuuri sighed, wrapping his legs around Victor’s hips. Victor sucked on his neck harder, flicking his hips upward at the end of every thrust.

Yuuri keened, surely making too much noise, but no one could hear them since, for the first time since they’d started having sex, they weren’t near either of their parents. Victor seemed to like hearing him moan his name, anyway. 

Yuuri reached down to stroke himself in time to Victor’s thrusts, his whole body electrifying with white-hot pleasure as he spilled all over himself, his toes curling with the force of it.

He blinked his eyes open after a moment, still gasping for air. “Holy shit.” 

“You’re...so beautiful when you...come,” Victor’s panted, his eyes soft.

He started to pull out, but Yuuri dug his fingernails into Victor’s arms. “Come in me,” he said hoarsely.

Victor’s eyes widened. “Are—are you sure? You’re not too sensitive?”

Shaking his head, Yuuri wrapped his legs around Victor again. “I want to feel it.” 

Victor shuddered, screwing his eyes shut for a moment. “Fuck, Yuuri, that’s…” 

“Do it,” Yuuri urged. 

Victor leaned down to kiss Yuuri as he started to thrust in again, his hips snapping inward over and over. 

“Ah, yes, that’s it, c’mon, I want to feel you come,” Yuuri gasped. 

Victor snapped inward a dozen more times, before he thrust in, hard, biting down on Yuuri’s neck with cry as he came. Yuuri moaned, feeling him spill inside his body 

They both groaned as Victor pulled out, and Yuuri winced; the feeling of come sliding out of him was...odd.

“О боже, это было восхитительно,”[1] Victor muttered, flopping back into the mattress.

“English. My tutor has been lax on teaching me...whatever that meant,” Yuuri said, poking at his side. 

“Basically, you rocked my world.” Victor turned to look at him, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Yuuri laughed. “Did you find a book of slang from the sixties or something?”

Victor stuck out his tongue, handing him his discarded sleep shirt, and Yuuri tried to clean himself up as best he could, but it was a lost cause. He threw the shirt to the ground, turning onto his side, tucking into Victor’s body. The post-orgasm haze had left him sleepy, and he was starting to drift off again when Victor spoke.

“So how did you like it?” Victor asked, tracing circles on Yuuri’s arm.

“Which part?” Yuuri mumbled. 

Victor waved a hand, as if to indicate, _everything_. 

“Mmmm,” Yuuri hummed. “I loved being able to feel all of you.” 

Victor’s lips slid upward into a lopsided grin. “It’s definitely better, though it’s hard not to come too fast.”

Yuuri reached up and brushed the hair out of Victor’s eyes. “Feeling you come inside me was fantastic, too, but the aftermath is a bit...messy.” 

Victor sighed, surveying the bed. “Yeah, we are going to have to wash these sheets,” he noted. “And ourselves.” 

“Worth it.” 

“Definitely.” Victor smiled again, cupping Yuuri’s cheek and sipping from his lips. He leaned back, and they just lay there for a few minutes, touching each other softly, enjoying the rare moment of utter peace and contentment. 

“What should we do today?” Yuuri asked eventually. It wasn’t technically a rest day, but Yakov had booked the ice for the junior skaters to practice their full routines all morning. They had most of the day off until Yuuri had ballet practice in the late afternoon. 

“Hmmm.” Victor bit his lip pensievely for a moment, then his eyes lit up. “Ooh, I have an idea.”

 

 

* * *

The beach was mostly deserted because it was a weekday, and still the middle of the winter. As they got out of the car, Makkachin immediately bounded out and chased a few seagulls, which took flight, squawking in protest. Victor and Yuuri wandered out toward the sand, Yuuri inhaling deeply, enjoying the fresh sea air.

Victor took a ball out of his pocket and threw it toward the water. Makkachin barked, loping over to retrieve it. 

Victor smiled at Yuuri, taking his hand. As they strolled along the shoreline, they took turns throwing the ball for Makkachin. A few lone seagulls circled overhead against a steel-grey sky, the winter ocean flat with few waves.

“It’s sort of like Hasetsu,” Yuuri said, after a long silence.

“It is. But much, much colder.” 

Yuuri hummed, throwing the ball for Makkachin again. At that moment, a paparazzo on a motorbike drove up on the street parallel to them, pulling out his camera. He started taking pictures of them, his face obscured by his helmet. 

Yuuri turned toward the water, hunching his shoulders slightly. “Don’t they ever give up?” he muttered.

Victor sighed, turning away as well.“At some point we will stop being news. They’ll lose interest and find more interesting prey.”

The wind was starting to pick up, so Yuuri pulled his scarf up around his ears.

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

Victor’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Yuuri pressed his lips together, gathering his thoughts. Makkachin dropped the ball at his feet, so he picked it up and threw it again before he replied. 

“If they lose interest in us, there won’t be as many offers for sponsorships, and...don’t you kind of like being famous? If you settle into a domestic life with me, you won’t be…”

“I won’t be splashed across the front page of the tabloids every couple of weeks because of my latest supposed hookup?” Victor finished for him. 

Yuuri flushed, nodding.

Victor sighed, pushing his hair back from his face with a gloved hand. “I don’t like that kind of fame, Yuuri. I told you, it took me farther from what I really wanted—a life with someone I loved. Between the two of us, we have more money than we could ever need, even if we never signed another sponsorship. Which I doubt will be a problem anyway, considering how things are going. You’ll almost certainly get more offers once the Sports Illustrated article comes out.” 

“I don’t know, maybe.” Yuuri watched Makkachin splash in the water, chasing a seagull again, the ball momentarily forgotten.

“Makka, don’t get too wet!” Victor called out, but of course the dog ignored him.

Victor shook his head exasperatedly. “He’s going to be cold later and he’s going to blame me.”

Yuuri snorted lightly. “How exactly could a dog blame you?”

“He’ll shiver and whine and look at me like ‘how could you have let this happen, you’re a terrible Papa.’”

Yuuri laughed, because he could imagine Makkachin doing just that.

Victor took Yuuri’s hand again. “Anyway. I meant what I said. I want _you,_ I want our life together, not people following me, taking pictures of my every move, speculating on whether I’m sleeping with this man or that one. I want to skate with you until my legs give out, and when they inevitably do , I hope we can adopt some children? Maybe one from Japan, one from here? And maybe we can coach. And just...live our lives.” Victor made this speech so casually, easily, as if it had been something they’d discussed many times.

Yuuri blinked at him, stunned for a moment. The last time they’d talked about children, on a different beach, Yuuri had thought...

“When you asked me before if I wanted children…” he began. 

Victor’s nose went a little pink. “I know, I didn’t go into specifics, and Mama was a bit overzealous...four might be too many, but of course we can cross that road later. I just think you’d be an amazing father, and we both want kids, so.” He lifted Yuuri’s hand so that he could kiss his knuckles 

.Yuuri’s heart lurched sideways. Back in Japan, Victor had been asking him whether he wanted children _with him_ , but Yuuri had assumed that he had been speaking in the abstract. He had been plagued by self-doubt, but Victor...Victor always been thinking about their future, together. 

Yuuri’s eyes started to sting a little, and Victor’s smile faltered. “What did I say?” 

“It’s not. I…” he paused, swallowing, looking out at the shore. 

He let himself imagine a day, years in the future, when the sun was out and the cold winter air was absent. He and Victor would be lounging on towels while two little children made sand castles, eventually abandoning them to chase Makkachin through the surf.

Now that he was allowed to think about it, allowed to dream, he yearned for that future desperately.

He met Victor’s gaze again, giving him watery smile. “I think you’re going to be a fantastic father too, Vitya.”

Victor’s smile was blinding. Yuuri had drink in some of that joy, sipping it directly from his lips. He melted into Victor’s embrace, peeling back the layers of his own blind self-inflicted pain and letting it all go. 

The wind was starting to pick up again, and Yuuri shivered against him. 

Victor broke the kiss, chuckling. “Want to go in somewhere and warm up?” he asked, rubbing Yuuri’s upper arms.

“Yes, please.” Yuuri’s teeth were on the verge of chattering.

“There’s this little cafe down the way, a friend owns it...here, I’ll just show you.” 

Yuuri tilted his head toward Makkachin, who was currently barking at the water. “What about Makka?”

Victor shrugged. “They don’t mind me bringing him in. I’m a good customer.” 

He twined his fingers with Yuuri’s, leading him up the beach to the road. The paparazzo was, thankfully, nowhere in sight, and no others had shown up yet. They wandered a few blocks down the road to a quaint coffee shop, the panels of the storefront painted in flaking light green, the glass window frosted with a word in a swirling Cyrillic script.

Victor held the door open for Yuuri and Makkachin, who was still holding his ball in his mouth. The small shop was homey and comfortable, jammed with squashy chairs and mismatched furniture, dark wood shelves packed with books, and a wall of plants mounted on a brick wall in the back. Thankfully, the few other patrons seemed to have absolutely no idea who they were; they glanced up at Victor and Yuuri briefly when the wind swept in, but then went back to their books and laptops.

A well-built blond man was behind the counter, an apron over his white t-shirt—which, _really_ , it was still the middle of the winter—the short sleeves showing off a complicated tattooed sleeve all the way down to his wrist. When they walked in, the man grinned, throwing a small towel over his shoulder. 

“Виктор! Сколько лет, сколько зим! Как поживает мой любимый клиент?”[2] 

“Great, thanks Henrik.” Victor said in English. “This is my husband, Yuuri.” 

“Aha, of course,” Henrik said, switching to English. He had a lilting accent that Yuuri couldn’t quite place. 

“Nice to meet you,” Yuuri said, reaching out to shake his hand.

“God, everyone must absolutely _hate_ the two of you.” Henrik didn’t let go of his hand immediately, raising an eyebrow. “Good for you, Victor, good for you.”

Yuuri blinked at him, not quite sure what to say to that.

Victor put his hand on the small of Yuuri’s back, smiling. “Thanks, I’m pretty lucky.”

Henrik released Yuuri’s hand, still grinning widely. “What’s your poison today?” 

“Can we have two lavender lattes, please?” 

Yuuri began to protest, but Victor held up a hand. “I know, I know, you don’t usually like coffee, but I think you’ll like these. Henrik is a magician.”

Yuuri shrugged. “Fine. I’ll try most things once.”

“Oh will you?” Victor waggled his eyebrows.

Yuuri laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, enough flirting at my counter, you two. Go sit down.” Henrik turned to the espresso machine, starting to work it with deft fingers. “I’ll bring them over to you when they’re done.”

They sat in two leather arm chairs in the far corner. Yuuri unwound the scarf from around his throat, but left his coat on, still feeling a bit chilled from the beach. Makkachin settled on the shaggy carpet at their feet, panting slightly, his ball between his front paws. 

While they waited, Yuuri flipped through the coffee table book on the table in front of them: a collection of photos from around St. Petersburg, the left side taken over a hundred years ago, the right side showing the same scene in the modern day. Victor texted away furiously on his phone, as usual.

Henrik came over a few minutes later with two large lattes in white ceramic cups, each of which had a pretty design in the foam on top, and a plate of pastries. He placed them with a flourish on the table, then knelt to rub at Makkachin’s neck fur. 

“Who’s the sweetest doggie? You are!” he cooed, then said some more words in a language Yuuri didn’t recognize. He reached in his pocket and took out a dog bone-shaped treat, feeding it to Makkachin, who immediately crunched it to oblivion.

Yuuri picked up the cup nearest him and sipped it gingerly. It was delicious; the creamy foam had just a hint of lavender in it, and the espresso wasn’t bitter at all.

“Oh wow,” he said under his breath, taking a longer sip.

“Told you,” Victor said, nudging him with an elbow. 

“Yeah yeah, you were right. Can I enjoy my coffee in peace now?”

“I’m glad you like it,” Henrik said, giving Makkachin one last rub and standing up, brushing his hands on his jeans. Yuuri hadn’t realized until that moment how tall he was; he was like some kind of Viking giant. 

“How much for these?” Victor asked, taking out his wallet. 

Henrik waved a hand at him, scoffing. “No charge.” 

Victor gave him a pointed look. “You can’t keep doing that. You’re going to go broke.” 

“I’ll have you know that I’m in the green this month.” Henrik crossed his arms.

“Right,” Victor said dubiously. 

“Enjoy your coffees,” Henrik said, walking back behind the counter to help some customers.

Victor sat back with his latte, taking a sip. “Mmm,” he hummed. “That hits the spot.”

“What’s his story?” Yuuri asked, watching Henrik work, his not-insubstantial muscles flexing under his shirt as he made another espresso. “Has he always been a barista?” 

“No, not at all. I met him at the Olympics, back when he was a pro downhill skier, representing Sweden,” Victor said. “He retired a few years ago and moved here to be with his boyfriend. He’d always wanted to start a coffee shop, so once he was done competing, he decided to go for it.” 

“Huh.” Yuuri watched Henrik talk with a customer. “What does his boyfriend do?” 

Victor sipped his coffee, eyes averted. “Uh. I think they broke up actually.” 

“Huh.” Yuuri looked down at his lap. He hadn’t really given much thought to what he’d do after he retired from skating. He’d finish his degree, of course, but then what? Work as a computer tech for a big company for the rest of his life? Only get out onto the ice once in a while? There were some skaters who managed to stay on the scene long into retirement, like Johnny Weir, who was constantly asked to be a commentator at events. Of course, Johnny had made a career out of his quirky personality, which wasn’t exactly something Yuuri could emulate.

Coaching, on the other hand...he’d never given it much thought, but that was something he would probably enjoy. Especially with Victor.  

Yuuri sipped his coffee contemplatively.

“What are you thinking about?” Victor bumped his shoulder against Yuuri’s. 

“Retirement. What I’ll do after.” 

Victor frowned, putting his cup down. “I didn’t mean to make you think about that right now. I was just thinking that eventually—” 

Yuuri shook his head. “I told you, I’d been on the brink of retiring after the Grand Prix this year. It’s not that far off.” 

Victor’s frown deepened. “I think you have several good years left in you.”

Yuuri shrugged, because he was reluctant to make any major decisions until after Worlds. He hadn’t said it aloud, but if he medaled this time, he might hang up his skates. At the same time, the competitive spirit in him made him want to stand at the top of the podium on the world stage, just once.

“Alright, we'll talk about it later, then.” Victor picked up the plate of pastries, taking a tentative bite of a pain au chocolat. “What are you going to do about classes, by the way? The semester must be starting again soon.”

Yuuri picked up a blueberry muffin.“I think I’m just going to take this whole semester off from school. Concentrate on skating.” 

Victor frowned, taking another bite of his pastry, the flakes getting all over his mouth and lap. “Are you sure? Aren’t you only a semester away from graduating?” he asked around his mouthful.

“Yeah, but I want to do well at Worlds, and I’m already so far behind anyway. It’s not a big deal. I could potentially do some classes this summer, maybe by correspondence. I would like to finish, just…” 

“You want a world title more.” It was a statement, not a question.

Yuuri nodded. It was odd, telling Victor this; he was the reigning World Champion four times over, Yuuri’s greatest competitor...but his husband too, and his coach.

“I get it.” Victor putt his plate down, picking up his cup again. “School can wait, but this can’t." 

They drank the rest of their coffee in relative silence, Yuuri looking out the window at the passers by, Victor texting on his phone. The inside of the shop was peaceful and mostly quiet, apart from the hissing noise of the espresso machine and the soft plucking of acoustic guitar music playing in the background. Yuuri was starting to see why Victor liked it here.

When they were ready to leave, Victor slipped a large bill under their plates—making sure that Henrik wasn’t looking—and Yuuri went to the restroom. When he came back out, Victor and Henrik were leaning over the counter, chatting. 

“And then he told me, in no uncertain terms, that the caramel I was using in his macchiato was not high enough quality, and told me to go buy some other kind before making me a new one. And I told him to eat my ass.”

“Oh my god, Rik, you did _not_ ,” Victor laughed, putting his face in his hands.

Henrik shrugged. “What can I say, I don’t suffer fools.” 

Yuuri walked over to his side, and Victor beamed at him, kissing his temple. “Ready, солнышко?”[3]

Henrik put his elbows on the counter, resting his chin on his fist. “You _guys_. You’re giving me a toothache.” He glanced over at Victor. “It’s about time someone made an honest man out of you, Vitya.” He winked again.

Victor’s nose went pink, and Yuuri looked back and forth between them for a moment, eyes narrowed. 

“Let’s get going, I think we might need to get Makka into the bath,” Victor said. 

“Don’t be strangers.” Henrik turned to help a customer who had just come into the shop.

As they left, Makkachin in their wake, Yuuri glanced back at Henrik. He couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion, deep down, that there was more to Victor and Henrik’s history than Victor had let on, but he didn’t ask, because he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

 

 

* * *

“Let’s start with practicing the first lift, okay? Then we can do the entire opening including that part.” Victor took a swig of his water bottle and handed it to Yuuri, who also took a sip.

They’d been back for almost a week, but due to normal practice and their other duties—an interview for the Sports Illustrated article and then the photoshoot for their Nike ads—it had been hard to schedule time specifically to work on their pair skate. Victor had booked the rink for two hours before the regular practice so that they could actually work with no interruptions. 

Yuuri put the water bottle down, wiping his chin. “This is the one where I’m in layback and you’re in lunge, right?” 

“Yeah, we circle around and when we meet in the middle, I’ll lift you. The first time I’ll just hold you up without lunging.” 

Yuuri nodded, pushing off and gliding out onto the ice. Once Victor got into position, they began circling around center ice, twirling in unison, eyes trained on each other. Yuuri’s heart beat against his chest in excitement and trepidation; neither of them had ever done lifts before, and he was sure there was going to be a learning curve. 

Victor met him in the middle, sliding his hands around Yuuri’s waist and lifting him. Yuuri steadied himself for a moment before he leaned back, his arms outstretched into the layback. 

After a few seconds holding the pose, Victor put him down gently.

“Okay, that was pretty good, let’s try it again with the lunge. Don’t forget, your feet—”

“I know,” Yuuri interrupted. “You’ve told me ten times already.”

Rolling his eyes, Victor moved back to his starting position. 

They twirled around each other, skating closer and closer until Victor could put his hands around Yuuri’s waist, then he knelt into a lunge. Yuuri started to lean into the layback, twisting his legs so that his right blade was resting against the left side of Victor’s leg. He felt exposed, completely at Victor’s mercy; one wrong move and he would go head-first into the ice.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Victor’s edge wobbled and they both went tumbling down. 

Yuuri was unable to break his fall like he normally would, since his arms were behind him. Thankfully, he twisted enough that he didn’t hit his head, but his torso hit the ice hard and the wind was knocked out of him. 

“Oh my god, Yuuri, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Victor croaked out. 

Yuuri was on his side, laughing, clutching his stomach. Victor crawled over to him gingerly, holding his knee with one hand. He turned Yuuri over, concern tight over his features. 

“Yuuri?” he panted. 

“Who knew...that one of the greatest figure skaters of all time...could be so clumsy?” Yuuri gasped, in between laughs. 

Victor punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Jerk. I thought I’d really hurt you.”

Yuuri pushed himself up, rubbing his side where it had made contact with the ice. “I’ll have an impressive bruise tomorrow, but I’ll be fine.”

Standing up slowly, Victor brushed the ice off his legs, and held out his hand. “C’mon, let’s try it from the top, with the music this time. I think I know what I did wrong.” 

Yuuri grabbed his hand, letting himself be pulled upright. “Okay, but drop me on my other side this time at least, okay? So the bruises are even.”

Victor stuck out his tongue, skating over to the travel-size speaker on the boards. Yuuri rubbed his hip again as he moved to his side of center ice. Victor pushed play, and skated quickly back out to the starting position: they stood with their backs to each other, looking toward the outside of the ice.

[The music began](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FV7KqBLCekk), and they each separately danced outward toward the boards on their respective sides of the ice. Yuuri closed his eyes, his body flowing through the moves, thinking about the time in his life when he’d been fighting alone, without Victor, always feeling like something was missing.

 _Never knew I could feel like this_  
_Like I’ve never seen the sky before_

When he reached the boards, Yuuri turned around, catching Victor’s eye, and they started spinning toward each other, their movements picking up in intensity. This was the part that showed when they first saw each other at the Grand Prix Banquet, feeling drawn to each other.

 _Want to vanish inside your kiss_  
_Every day I love you more and more_  
_Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing?_  
_Telling me to give you everything?_

They circled center ice, twirling a few times, and meeting in the middle. Victor gripped his waist firmly, pushing Yuuri up into the air. Yuuri leaned back cautiously, but this time, it felt stable, Victor’s lunge steady.

 _Seasons may change, winter to spring_  
_But I love you, until the end of time_

Victor placed him back on the ice, keeping one hand around Yuuri’s waist, cupping his cheek with the other hand, like the prelude to a kiss.

There was a smattering of applause from the end of the rink. Yuuri stopped, gasping for air; the Russian skating team was starting to filter into the arena.

“God, was that two hours already?” Yuuri wiped the sweat from his brow. 

Victor sighed. “Guess so. I should book more ice time for us for when we get back from Bratislava, we have a lot of lifts to practice.”

“Agreed.”

“Yuuri, Victor, come over here. I want to talk to you,” Yakov called out.

Sharing a long look, they both skated over to the boards. Yakov was standing with his arms crossed, with Yurio next to him, his hood up, hands in his pockets. They both had matching scowls. 

“So you’ve decided to switch to pair skating? I guess since you’re married, Yuuri could file for Russian citizenship. I don’t know what the rules state about two men entering a competition, but you do love to rock the boat,” Yakov said without mirth.

Victor rolled his eyes. “It’s just for the EX skate at Worlds. I told you we were doing it.”

“You did,” Yakov said gruffly. “I just didn’t think you were serious.” 

“I think it’s going to be fun.” There was a touch of petulance to Victor’s tone. 

“Do whatever you want, just as long as it doesn’t result in any injuries that affect your actual skating. I’m working with little Yuri first—”

“ _Little_ Yuri?” Yurio squawked. Victor, who was in the middle of taking a sip from his bottle, snorted water everywhere, covering his mouth with his forearm.

Yakov glared at both of them before going on. “Vitya, work on your free skate jumps a few times each, iron out the edges, I’ll work with you later.” 

Victor nodded, kissing Yuuri on the cheek before skating off. 

“Yuuri, run through your Eros program. I want to see you land that salchow cleanly before you leave. I’ll be right back after I talk to Georgi. Apparently he’s having yet another meltdown.” He stalked off, muttering under his breath. “I am supposed to be a _figure skating coach_ , not a relationship therapist…” 

Yuuri took a sip from his water bottle, bending down to brush the ice off his skates. 

“That fall earlier looked like it hurt. You’re okay, right, piggy?”

Yuuri looked up in surprise. Yurio hadn’t moved to go put on his skates; he wasn’t looking at Yuuri either, his gaze focused on the ice with practiced nonchalance. 

“I’m a little banged up, but I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking, though." 

Yurio grunted, his shoulders relaxing a nearly-imperceptible amount. “Just don’t want you to get so injured that I can’t beat you fair and square when I get to the seniors.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Yuuri smiled, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

Yurio didn’t move away, so Yuuri waited, since he obviously had something else to say. “So you and Victor,” he said eventually. “You seem...different.” 

Yuuri ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “Different?” 

Yurio hesitated, kicking the boards with one foot. “In a good way. I’m glad you worked it out, whatever it was. He deserves someone who…” he trailed off, shrugging. “Never mind. One of your arms was bent on the lift, by the way. Looked sloppy.”

He turned and stalked off to the locker room. 

Yuuri glanced around at the other Russian skaters, some of whom waved and greeted him. He still didn’t feel completely at ease at his new home rink, but it was nice to know that someone was in his corner—well, his and Victor’s corner. Even if the source was a boy who constantly seemed on the verge of punching someone. 

Still, Yuuri wondered if it had been that obvious to anyone else that he and Victor hadn’t been fully “together” before Moscow. 

He sighed, putting his bottle down and gliding out to the ice, trying to put the thoughts aside. He had work to do. 

 

 

 

* * *

Later, back at the apartment, Victor showered while Yuuri fixed them lunch. He puttered around the kitchen, munching on some cereal while he made them sandwiches.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Makkachin perked up a little from his spot on the couch, ears raised.

“Who is it?” Yuuri called out, but no one answered. 

Frowning, he walked over to the door, Makkachin jumping off the couch and padding along in his wake. 

He opened it, but there was no one there; a thin package was sitting on the doormat, a sticky note with something written in Cyrillic on top. 

Yuuri picked it up and padded back into the kitchen. He patted Makkachin on the head, popped another Cheerio into his mouth and ripped open the package, figuring it was something from Nadiya.

Instead, it was several magazines— _People_ , _Star_ , and some others with titles other languages. All with pictures of Victor and Yuuri on the cover, annoyed grimaces on their faces as they shouldered through the gauntlet of paparazzi.

Yuuri frowned, picking up _Star_ and flipping to the article indicated on the front page.

 

**TROUBLE IN PETERSBURG?**

 

 _ST. PETERSBURG_ _—_ _If you’ve been reading our magazine lately, you have almost certainly been following the saga of figure skating’s Golden Couple for the past month. Katsuki Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov have been joined at the hip since their nuptials in early December. So far they have traveled to Yekaterinburg, Sapporo, Hasetsu, Moscow, and now St. Petersburg, looking sickeningly in love at every stop._  

 _But is that the whole story?_  

 _STAR was given access to these photos of Victor Nikiforov, looking quite cozy with another man… someone who is very decidedly not his husband._  

_[Photo through the window of the coffee shop, showing Henrik brushing hair away from Victor’s eyes. Victor’s expression isn’t visible, but the barista’s head is tilted flirtatiously]_

_[A second photo of Victor leaning over the counter, laughing, Henrik smiling at him, eyes soft]_  

 _We don’t know what’s happening here, of course, but it sure looks like Victor is flirting with Henrik Johannson, former Swedish skiing extraordinaire, and long time friend of Victor’s. Yuuri is nowhere to be seen. But maybe their marriage is an open one? Hey, we don’t judge!_  

_Log on to our Twitter at @starmagazine and share your thoughts!_

 

Yuuri threw down the magazine on the counter, his throat tightening and stomach churning. He glanced back at the bedroom, where Victor was singing a pop song, the shower still running. 

Yuuri knew he shouldn’t do it, but he grabbed his phone and pulled up Twitter. He didn’t have to look long, because the hashtag #troubleinpetersburg was trending.

He clicked on the article, his eyes widening immediately; there were _five thousand_ replies and several thousand retweets. He clicked on the first retweet, immediately feeling his heart rate go up.

 **@Vityaluvrrr**  
I mean, lbr, Victor never stays with one guy for long. Waiting for an inevitable huge “falling out” in which he and Yuuri both walk away rich. {Article: starmagazine} #golddigger #oopshediditagain #victuuri #starmagazine#troubleinpetersburg

                  Reply from @ **binktoporbottom**  
                  why’d he marry Yuuri then? They could have just dated for a while and then split. Same result.

                  Reply from@ **Vityaluvrrr**  
                  Victor probably realized that the hookup stories were getting old, so he had to go bigger.

                  Reply from @ **lambiellla**  
                   ...weren’t there some rumors last year that his publicist chick was holding auditions for his next bf? I wonder if Katsuki tried out XD

                  Reply from @ **Vityaluvrrr**  
                  They also just announced that Victor and Yuuri signed a major Nike sponsorship recently, so. $$$$$

                  Reply from@ **Katsukiss**  
                  Wtf is with you people. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more in love. If they are faking it, it’s like, Oscar-level acting.

                  Reply from @ **Vityaluvrrr**  
                  Bottom line, Victor always gets bored and moves on. That’s what he does. And I love that slut with all my heart.

@ **sayurisdream**  
I just want Yuuri and Victor to be happy…I hope that this guy is just a friend.#victuuri #ilovethem

                  Reply from @ **Katsukiss**  
                  I think they **are** happy. We don’t know the whole story with that barista. Context is key! 

                  Reply from @ **Ashidasrage**  
                  Tbh, I have always figured the marriage was a publicity stunt.

                  Reply from @ **sayurisdream**  
                  I hope not. Victor and Yuuri = relationship goals. Did you see them at Japanese nationals? I’m cry. 

@ **nikiforovas**  
Did anyone really think that Victor Fucking Nikiforov was going to throw it all away for some dumpy Japanese ass? {article: starmagazine} #yeahright#onceaplayboyalwaysaplayboy #victuuri #troubleinpetersburg

                  Reply from @ **victuurismine**  
                  Excuse, Yuuri is a hot piece? Victor was practically drooling on the ice after he performed Eros. Boi has it bad. 

                  Reply from @ **crystalphes**  
                  Pictures speak louder than words. Victor’s not pushing that dude away.

                  Reply from @ **nikiforovas**  
                  Agree. It’s only a matter of time before he fucks someone else. 

 

Yuuri’s stomach was roiling. He couldn’t look at any more of the tweets without throwing up, so he closed the tab and walked briskly into the bedroom. He threw on some running clothes, scribbled out a quick note on a piece of paper and put it next to the plate of sandwiches. 

He was tugging on his running shoes in the hallway when he heard the shower shut off.

“Yuuri?” Victor called out. 

Yuuri didn’t answer. He glared at the magazines on the counter for a long moment, then picked them all up along with his phone.

Makkachin tried to follow him. “No, Makka,” he said quietly, pushing him back gently so that he could close the door. He started walking down the hallway, hunching his shoulders and trying to ignore the dog scratching at the door and whining. 

He took the elevator down to the lobby but went out the back entrance, hoping there weren’t any paparazzi camped out—and there weren’t, thankfully. If there had been, he might have shouted something at them that he would later regret. He put the sticky note in his pocket before throwing the magazines in the garbage bin outside their building. He put in his headphones, tugged his hood up and started running.

The air was bitter, biting into his lungs. He ran and ran, ignoring the texts pinging his phone. He turned up the music louder than usual, pounding the pavement, letting the air sting his eyes until he could pretend that the tears were from the cold air, rather than something else. 

He knew he should talk to Victor about it, but what was there to say, really? Victor had told him definitively that he was not interested in other men...and it wasn’t _his_ fault that Yuuri was so goddamn insecure. It wasn’t fair for him to act jealous or angry just because other men—the whole world, really—found Victor attractive. Even if those men flirted with him at every opportunity. 

But every single one of those comments on Twitter dug deep into his worst fears. He should never have looked at them, let them feed the dark voice in his head that would always tell him that he was not good enough for Victor, and he never would be. 

_It’s only a matter of time before he fucks someone else._

His mind unhelpfully supplied flashes of the way James had looked at Victor, how he’d touched Victor’s arm. He thought of Henrik brushing the hair out of Victor’s face in the photo, and how they’d had an easy rapport that can only come from many years of knowing someone.

Yuuri picked up the pace, turning the music up even higher, trying to drown out the voices in his own head. It didn’t work.

 

 

* * *

“Good run?” Victor called out from the kitchen as Yuuri opened the door.

“Cold.” Yuuri didn’t meet his gaze. “Gonna shower.”

“Okay. I’m going to walk Makka before we make dinner.”

Yuuri nodded, toeing off his sneakers and starting to walk toward the bedroom.

“Yuuri?” 

Yuuri sighed, turning around. 

Victor already had his coat on, standing in the hallway, holding Makkachin’s leash. He was wearing Yuuri’s hat, the one with the pointy ears, which tugged at something in Yuuri’s chest. 

Victor shifted from one foot to another. “Is something wrong?” he asked. 

Yuuri forced a smile. “No,” he lied. “I’m just tired. Have a good walk.” 

“We need to pack when I get back,” Victor called out.

“Fine,” Yuuri called back, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the counter, waiting to hear the front door open and close.

He took out the sticky note and carefully, using his new Cyrillic keyboard, typed the word into Google Translate.

Once he saw the translation, he squinted, looking back and forth between the note and what he’d typed, thinking it must be wrong, because it made no sense. But it was correct. 

The translation read, _Guess Who?_

 

 

* * *

When they landed in Bratislava, the sky was a flat grey, threatening rain. Yuuri rested his head against the window, listening to some generic upbeat pop music as they taxied down the runway, his stomach full of lead. 

As soon as they landed, Victor started texting away on his phone, stealing glances at Yuuri every once in a while.

“Chris and his boyfriend want to have dinner with us tonight,” Victor said, still looking at his screen.

“Fine.” Yuuri didn’t move or look at him.

Victor sighed, pocketing his phone. “Are we going to talk about it or not?”

Yuuri flinched, taking out his headphones. “T—talk about what?” 

“The photos. The ones of me and Henrik.”

Yuuri looked down at his shaking hands, twisting the headphones around his phone. 

“I didn’t know...that you knew about it,” he said, unable to meet Victor’s eyes. 

“Chris texted the link to me this morning. You found out about it yesterday, right? I could tell you were upset about something, but I thought I was imagining things. Why didn’t you just talk to me about it?” 

Yuuri hunched his shoulders, picking at the cuticle on his thumb. It was a nervous habit, one he’d tried many times to break. “I just...I didn’t want to seem…” he trailed off.

“What?” Victor asked gently.

“Jealous and insecure. Not again. Not after the whole James thing.”

Victor’s face was blank for a long second.

“Yuuri, you can’t think I would—” 

“I _know_ ,” Yuuri snapped. “I know that, alright? I know that Henrik is your friend, and that they purposefully made it look like I wasn’t there with you, waiting to take the photo when I wasn’t in view. I know all of that. It wasn’t that. It was...it was the way people were talking about it. They all…” he shook his head, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes. “None of them think that I’m good enough for you, and they scoffed at the idea that you’d really stay with me forever. _Everyone_ wants you. Every hot guy from here to Japan to the United States and back again. How could I possibly be worth throwing all of that away?” 

“Yuuri.” Victor tried to pry Yuuri’s hands away from his eyes. “Yuuri, please look at me.”

Yuuri dropped his hands, an acrid taste in the back of his throat. This was what he’d been trying to avoid all along, what he’d tried to keep from happening: the look in Victor’s eyes when he had to reassure Yuuri, yet again.

Victor took both of his hands. “I want you to listen to me very carefully. I’m not throwing anything away to be with you,” he said, his voice patient and even. “I keep forgetting that you haven’t been in the spotlight long, that you don’t know how to avoid the gossip. I could tell the whole world a million times how much I love you, if that’s what it takes. But it doesn’t matter what anyone says about us. I know the truth.” He splayed his hand over Yuuri’s heart. “You gave me my life back. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.” 

It was so simple, so sincere, that the back of Yuuri’s throat burned. He shook his head, putting his hand over Victor’s.

“I’m sorry. I know you must be so frustrated with me. This is why I didn’t tell you. I know you don’t want someone else. It’s just…” he gulped.

“It’s hard to keep those voices at bay when you see other people saying the same things,” Victor finished for him, his voice flat.

“Yeah." 

Victor sighed. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could stop them from talking about us, but I can’t. I hate seeing you like this.” 

Yuuri looked directly into Victor’s eyes, so blue in the strange half-light from the window. “Just tell me. Did you...were you and Henrik ever together?”

Victor’s eyes widened a little. “No, Yuuri,” he said, after a moment. “He’s just a friend.” 

Yuuri nodded. “Okay.” He sat back, leaning against Victor’s shoulder, pressing his face into Victor’s neck and just letting himself breathe.

 

 

* * *

They went straight to the Ondrej Nepela Arena from the airport, since their hotel check-in wasn’t for a few more hours. Their afternoon practice skate went by quickly—as usual, Yuuri was allowed to use the ice through some special dispensation Victor got for him. Victor ran through his short program a few times while Yuuri worked on his spins. By the time the announcer called their time over, Yuuri still felt a little riled up, but better than he had before they’d started.

As he and Victor put their skate guards back on, Christophe Giacometti sauntered over to them, an attractive man trailing in his wake. 

“Chris!” Victor beamed, standing up straight.

“Hello chéri,” Chris said, kissing him on each cheek. “It’s been too long.” 

He turned to Yuuri, his mouth curling upward into a salacious smile. “Hi, Yuuri. Fully clothed today, I see. Too bad.”

“Uh, hi.” Yuuri felt his cheeks heat. He knew ostensibly what they’d gotten up to at the Grand Prix Banquet, but he still couldn’t remember it at all. 

“Have you met André?” Chris gestured toward the man at his side. 

“Nice to meet you,” André said, holding out a hand.

Yuuri shook it, smiling. “Likewise.”

“So we are going to dinner, yes? Where should we eat?” Chris asked Victor.

Victor’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, there’s a place near the theater district I really loved last time I was here. Or that one little cafe down by the river, it’s so good—” 

Chris rolled his eyes. “God, I forgot how annoying you can be about food. We have to go check in to our hotel and shower, just text me an address. Meet at around six?”

“Sure. See you soon.”

 

 

* * *

Yuuri had never been to Bratislava before, so he had no idea what to expect as he watched the city go by. The arena was a bit outside downtown, and as they drove into the historical center, they passed were quaint old-style european buildings with red roofs. There was a castle on a hill overlooking the Danube, and Christmas lights were still strung up between the buildings. They drove about fifteen minutes, arriving at a large, sleek hotel by the river just as the sun was going down.

As per usual, their room was a large suite, floor-to-ceiling windows framing a large living room, everything decorated in sleek shades of white and grey. The clouds had broken apart for the moment, and the sunset was reflected in the waters of the Danube, highlighting everything in pink and orange.

“Shower?” Yuuri asked, taking his phone charger out of his bag and plugging his phone in. 

“You go first,” Victor called out from the kitchen. “I’m getting a snack.”

Yuuri showered quickly, noting the large bathtub on one side which would be perfect for a good long soak. He headed back out to the bedroom, toweling off his hair.

“I laid something out for you.” Victor walked out of the closet and hung a dark blue suit on the door. “It’s on the bed.” 

Victor disappeared into the ensuite, turning the shower back on and starting to sing as he stepped in, as was his habit. Yuuri smiled as he dried himself off, listening to the broken lyrics of a Miley Cyrus song. 

He dressed in the clothes Victor had laid out—designer dark jeans, a black button down, and sleek black jacket—put in his contacts and slicked back his hair. As a final touch, he used some of the eyeliner Mona had slipped him before he’d left. It took him a couple of tries, and some discarded tissues, but eventually he got it just right. 

When he was finished, Yuuri stood back and looked at his reflection in the floor length mirror, smoothing down his jacket, satisfied.

Victor walked out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his waist, drying his hair with another one. Yuuri turned around and leaned against the dresser, palms flat on the dark wood on either side of his hips. 

“Hey,” he said, smiling. 

Victor stopped in his tracks, eyes widening. “Wow,” he breathed.

“Like what you see?” Yuuri bit his bottom lip. 

Victor crossed the room, discarding the towel he’d been holding—despite the fact that his hair was still dripping. 

“Yuuuuuri,” he purred, sliding his hands around Yuuri’s waist. “You’re killing me.”

Yuuri chuckled. “You say that like you didn’t pick out this outfit yourself.”

Victor skimmed his nose against Yuuri’s, making him shiver. “You’re right. Take it all off.”

Yuuri laughed again. “We definitely don’t have time to get undressed again, but we do have time for something else.”

Victor perked up at that. “Oh?”

Yuuri sunk down to his knees, nudging against the towel with his nose. Victor gasped, tilting backward slightly on his heels, his eyes wide and dark, his cock starting to take a visible interest.

“Okay?” Yuuri smoothed his hands up Victor’s thighs. 

Victor nodded quickly. “But what about you?” 

“You can get me back later.” Yuuri winked up at him, pulling the towel to the floor.

 

 

* * *

They were a few minutes late to dinner, but Chris and André hadn’t arrived yet anyway.

“He’s always fifteen minutes late,” Victor explained, accepting his menu from the waiter. “I think he’s the only Swiss person in history who isn’t timely.” 

“Well, I guess we could have gotten up to a bit more back at the room, then, after all.” Yuuri waggled his eyebrows mischievously.

Victor’s nose went pink. Yuuri smirked, loving the fact that he could visibly fluster Victor in public. 

Victor glanced over his shoulder before he put his hand on Yuuri’s thigh, sliding high enough that heat prickled the back of Yuuri’s neck. 

“If we had, we probably would never have made it out at all,” Victor whispered, voice pitched low. 

“Oh?” Yuuri bit his lower lip, letting his gaze wander over Victor appreciatively. He was wearing the dark blue suit with a white button down, the colors setting off his slightly-flushed skin beautifully in the dim candlelight of the restaurant. 

Victor licked his lips, sliding his hand a little further up, his thumb tracing teasing circles against Yuuri’s thigh. “Once I got started, I would have wanted to ravish you for hours.”

Yuuri caught the hand, raising his eyebrows. “Are you sure _you_ would have been the one doing the ravishing?” he countered. 

Victor’s mouth fell open. 

“So, are you two about to go fuck in the bathroom? Can I at least order some wine first?” Chris had appeared at the table, grinning, dressed in a charcoal grey suit and a burgundy shirt. 

André laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. 

Victor rolled his eyes, dropping his hand. “Hi to you too, Chris.” 

Chris sat down on the opposite side of the booth. “I swear, you could cut the sexual tension with a knife.” 

“Give them a break, they’re newlyweds,” André pointed out, sliding in next to him. 

“Hmmm that’s true. But _certain things_ are even newer for you two, aren’t they?” Chris fluttered his ridiculously long eyelashes at Yuuri, who frowned, glancing at Victor. 

Victor coughed, shaking his head a little as he took a drink of water. 

Chris smirked, plucking the wine list from Victor’s hands. “Is red okay with everyone, or should I also order white?” 

“Red is fine,” Yuuri said, grateful for the change in subject. 

The waiter returned, and they ordered appetizers and wine. Yuuri hadn’t gotten to spend a large amount of time with Chris before—at least, not that he remembered—and he had been slightly nervous to meet Victor’s best friend. He quickly learned, however, that Chris was even more over-the-top and friendly than Victor, and he relaxed a bit, falling into the conversation easily. After a couple of glasses of wine, Victor and Chris started telling more and more outlandish stories, trying to one-up each other.

“There’s only so much you can do to get spunk out of your program costume when you are about to go on the ice,” Chris said, smiling devilishly.

Yuuri, who had been taking a drink from his water glass, choked slightly, sputtering out, “ _What_?”

“2014, NHK Trophy. I don’t think anyone could see it, but apparently, it was very visible under the lights of the kiss and cry.”

“How did you…” Yuuri trailed off, glancing at Victor. 

Victor gave him a pained look. “Don’t ask,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, I was giving a certain American skater a blow job in a back room and he came all over my face.” Chris waved his hand flippantly.

Yuuri gaped at him. André laughed, smiling at Chris fondly, apparently used to this kind of talk.

Victor rolled his eyes. “Chris gives new meaning to the term ‘overshare,’” he explained, grinning at Chris. 

Chris shrugged. “We’re all friends here. It’s not like most of the world doesn’t know a lot of details of _your_ sexual escapades, chéri.” 

“You know half of it is fake.” Victor took a sip of his wine, but Yuuri could see his jaw tighten.

Chris held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “True,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t mind hearing more details about your current sex life, though. You’ve been holding out on me.” He batted his eyelashes at Yuuri again, resting his chin on his fist. 

Victor shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

“Mmmm, later, then,” Chris said.

“Keep dreaming.”

“Leave them alone,” André said, nudging him with his elbow.

Chris chastened a bit, leaning back in the booth. “I’m just teasing. I’m really happy for Vitya. He finally fell in love with a boy, told him he loved him, married said boy...well not in that exact order, but still.” He held up his wine glass. “To happy endings.” 

They all raised their glasses, clinking them together. Yuuri watched Chris contemplatively as he sipped his wine, realizing that Victor really had told Chris everything, including the fact that they had only started having sex about a week ago. It was only fair, since Yuuri had told Phichit, but it was still odd that an almost-stranger knew so much about his personal life. 

The waiter arrived with their entrees, and silence settled over the table for a moment as they started eating.

“So enough about us, how did you two meet?” Yuuri asked, taking advantage of the lull in conversation.

André looked at Chris, who shrugged. “Well,” André began, “I was an ice dancer, once upon a time, and I met him on the circuit.” 

“He means we fucked a few times when we saw each other at competitions,” Chris supplied helpfully. 

“Yes, that,” André laughed. 

Yuuri choked a little on his rosemary chicken. “Are they always like this?” he whispered to Victor. 

“Yes,” Victor whispered back. 

“A couple years ago, I decided to retire,” André went on. “I asked Chris if he needed a manager, and, well. Things went on from there.”

Chris waved his fork. “Meaning, once he moved to Zurich, we fucked some more, and eventually I asked him if he’d like to fuck me exclusively, and he said yes.”

Yuuri laughed. “That’s so romantic.”

“Yes, well, not all of us can have a fairytale love story.” Chris winked at Victor. 

“You’re right. We were really lucky.” Yuuri dropped a hand to Victor’s thigh, and Victor grinned down at him.

“ _Scheisse_ , you two.” Chris shook his head, laughing. “I know I said I had to see it for myself, but you’re bordering on nauseating." 

Victor’s smile radiated in the low light. “Thanks, Chris.”

 

 

* * *

The day of the short program dawned with dark clouds overhead, an icy rain pelting the windows. Yuuri’s mood matched the weather from the moment he awoke to the darkened morning. As they got ready, restless energy made him feel twitchy, and he itched to get out onto the ice to work it off.

At the morning warm-up skate, Yuuri worked out as best he could with all the competitors on the ice, but he still felt inexplicably antsy when the session was over. Frustrated, he decided to run on one of the treadmills that were technically set aside for warm-ups. He pounded the tread until sweat poured down his face, then did a few rounds of weights. 

He showered and went back out to the arena, where the final skating group was warming up for their wave. Victor was standing at the boards on the far side, talking to Javier Fernandez and Chris, laughing at something Javier said. After a couple of minutes, he pushed off backwards, rolling his shoulders as he skated around the rink a bit. He gained speed to launch into a quad flip, landing it smoothly, then performed a flawless flying sit spin. 

When the end of the short warm-up was announced over the speakers only a few minutes later, Victor skated directly over to Yuuri. “Hi,” he said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “How was your workout?” 

“Good. How about you?”

“Fine,” Victor shrugged. “My quad flip was a tiny bit off.” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “The flip was perfect, and you know it.” 

Victor just smiled as he put on on his skate guards.

“Where’s Yakov, by the way?” Yuuri asked. 

“He’s around here somewhere. Probably talking Georgi down from the ledge after his disastrous short. I’m going to go stretch while the first few skaters go.” He stepped off the ice, picking up his warm-up jacket.

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, you can stay here and scope out the competition for Worlds.” Victor winked.

Yuuri shrugged, smiling. That was exactly why he’d wanted to watch the final group. “Okay. I’ll be here when you’re up.” 

Victor walked off to find an empty corridor for his pre-skate routine, and Yuuri settled in to watch the first few skaters. As he’d suspected, the only competitors who really had any chance to make it to the podium at Worlds were Chris, Javier, and of course, Victor. 

When it was Chris’s turn, he stripped off his jacket and handed it to André, pulling him in for a deep kiss—lingering enough to elicit some wolf-whistles from the crowd—before gliding out onto the ice. His costume was a skin-tight black number with mesh over the shoulders and glittering sequins down the arms and legs.

He waved at the crowds and settled into his starting pose, hip canted to the side, knee bent. 

As [the music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bvC_0foemLY) came over the loudspeakers, Chris skimmed his hands down his body, pushing off on one foot and launching into a step sequence. 

His routine left little to the imagination; he gyrated his hips, undulating his stomach and sticking his ass out more than was really required.

He twirled over the ice to the upbeat music, winking openly at the judges before launching into a triple axle. He wobbled a little on the landing, but seemed unruffled, immediately launching into a step sequence.

Doing intricate footwork that was somehow complex and salacious at the same time, Chris swept over the ice, relaxing his axis. When he got to the far edge, he honest-to-god sucked on his thumb before starting a camel spin.

Yuuri felt his cheeks heat. The routine was so openly sexual that he was surprised the judges didn’t tell him to tone it down. The crowds went wild for him, though.

Chris finished in his final pose: on his knees, one arm stretched toward the ceiling. He stood up, face flushed, waving up at his cheering fans as he skated over to the kiss and cry.

Javier appeared at Yuuri’s elbow. “Hi, Yuuri. How are you?” he asked, his voice softly accented.

Yuuri smiled at him. “Great, thanks. You?” Yuuri didn’t know Javier well, but he had been on the circuit for so long that they’d come across each other a few times. 

“Can’t complain. You are just here to watch Victor?”

“Yeah. I could have stayed back in St. Petersburg, but I love watching Victor compete, so I thought, why not?” 

Javier nodded. “You and Victor, you seem good together. I’ve known him for a long time, and he seems…” Javier tilted his head slightly, as if considering his words. “A little softer around the edges, now. I think it’s because of you.”

Yuuri looked at him in surprise; he hadn’t expected Javier to say something like that. It had been so nonchalant, yet sincere.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, unable to form coherent thoughts beyond that. 

Javier smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

His name was announced over the speakers, so he took off his warm-up jacket, revealing a red and black outfit beneath.

“Good luck,” Yuuri said.

“Thanks.” Javier took off his skate guards, pushing out onto the ice. He circled a few times before stopping and settling into his starting pose: left arm upraised, other hand stretched across his body, palm perpendicular to the floor. 

As [his music](https://youtu.be/G5Esp_5JD08?t=11s) began, Javier started moving over the ice fluidly, graceful as always. The quad of his first combination was beautiful, but the landing on the triple was over-rotated, and he touched down with his other skate. 

Victor appeared next to him. “Javi looks good, as usual.”

Yuuri hummed his agreement. “Yeah. First combo was a little off, though.”

They watched for a couple of minutes in silence as Javier landed another jump, making it all look effortless.

“You ready?” Yuuri asked.

“Yeah, I feel good.” Victor was always so relaxed before competitions, something Yuuri envied him for.

“Anything you need? Water maybe?”

“Just one thing.” Victor took Yuuri’s right hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing his ring. “My good luck charm.”

“You can have it whenever you want,” Yuuri said gently, grinning up at him.

Victor smiled back, opening his mouth to say something, but then his eyes flicked over Yuuri’s shoulder for a moment...and he froze, color draining from his face.

“What?” Yuuri asked, following his gaze, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Victor pressed his lips together.“I don’t know. I thought I saw…” His eyes darted around as if searching for something. “No. Never mind, it’s impossible.” 

He shook his head, bending down to tighten his laces. 

Yuuri glanced out at the ice, trying to gauge how much time they had; Javier had just finished his routine and was picking up tokens, waving at the crowds. 

He crouched next to Victor, touching his forearm lightly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” Victor said, straightening again, his composure back in place as if it had never faltered at all. 

Yuuri stood up slowly, gazing out at the crowd, but he saw nothing other than milling fans. 

Javier glided over to the boards. “Break a leg, Victor,” he said amiably, stepping off the ice. 

Victor grinned at him. “Thanks, Javi. That last spin was gorgeous, well done.”

Javier shrugged. “A couple of my landings could have been better. See you on the other side.” He walked toward the kiss and cry to wait for his score.

The announcement came only a couple of minutes later: 102.54. Javier beamed up at the stands, waving.

Victor took off his skate guards and handed them to Yuuri, still looking a bit pale, but otherwise his normal confident self. Yuuri frowned, wanting to reassure him after whatever that momentary blip had been. He grabbed Victor’s arm, pulling him close.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I know.” Victor smiled. “I love you too.”

Yuuri kissed him, deeply, but briefly. “Knock ‘em dead,” he said.

“I will.”

Victor pressed their lips together once more and pushed off, circling a few times before he stopped at center ice.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, settling into his starting pose for the routine, chin on his shoulder and arms across his body.

 _Early morning, he wakes up_  
_Knock, knock on the door_  

As [the music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0aICiNOVvI&feature=youtu.be&t=44s) started playing, Victor spread his arms, smiling up at the crowd.

 _It’s time for makeup, perfect smile_  
_It’s you they’re all waiting for_

Victor pulled his hands down his body, twirling on his axis. Yuuri’s heart was in his throat as he watched Victor dance over the ice, his movements graceful and precise, never a stumble or waver. 

 _Isn’t he lovely, this champion boy?_  

He transitioned smoothly into a flawless quad flip, landing it to uproarious applause. 

 _And they say, he’s so lucky, he’s a star_  
_But he cry, cry, cries in his lonely heart, thinking_  

Victor knelt with his hands over his heart, then launched into a quick step sequence.

 _If there’s nothing missing in my life,_  
_Then why do these tears come at night?_

Yuuri pressed his hand to his mouth, listening to the lyrics. In the dozens of times he’d heard this song, watched Victor skate this routine, he’d never understood the true meaning behind it all before. He’d always thought the song was an odd choice before, but now he knew about Alex, the pain Victor had gone through and the many years of emptiness that had followed. 

Victor gained speed and launched into his quad toe, triple loop combo, landing it cleanly.

 _Lost in an image, in a dream_  
_And there’s no one there to wake him up_

Victor had always been the champion, the man who seemingly had everything, a glittering god beyond reach. But the whole time he’d been slowly falling apart inside, loneliness eating away at him year after year. And no one knew, no one had even guessed _._ He’d been acting for so long that it was a part of him, both on and off the ice. 

Victor twirled into a spin, his body a blur on the ice.

 _And the world is spinning and he keeps on winning_  
_But tell me, what happens when it stops?_

Yuuri was the only person he’d let in. He’d let Yuuri discover his true self, the one no one else got to see. Victor had thrown aside his mask put his heart in Yuuri’s hands, and asked for nothing in return other than his own heart. 

 _Don’t cry,_ Yuuri told himself. _There are dozens of cameras trained on your face right now._ Do not _cry.  
_

_Isn’t he lovely, this champion boy?_  
_He is so lovely but why does he cry_  
_If there is nothing missing in my life_  
_Why do tears come at night?_  

Victor froze in his final pose, the crowd cheering, his media smile plastered on his face. He waved, gliding over to the boards, his forehead glistening with sweat, pausing only to pick up a pink bear with a giant heart sewn on its belly. 

Yuuri composed himself, making sure to smile as Victor approached.

“So?” Victor asked, sliding on his skate guards.

“Terrible,” Yuuri teased. “Worst I’ve ever seen you skate.”

Victor stuck out his tongue, handing him the token. “Here, I brought you this bear, even though you’re mean to me.”

As they walked over to the kiss and cry, Yakov joined them, listing off all the things Victor could have done better.

“Isn’t there anything you liked about it?” Victor sat down, taking Yuuri’s hand in both of his and holding it on his lap. 

Yakov huffed. “The quad flip was alright.”

“Only alright? Last time you favored me with a ‘good.’”

“Flattery doesn’t help you improve, only criticism,” Yakov said, crossing his arms. 

Victor’s lower lip jutted out in a pout. 

After a couple of minutes, Victor’s name was announced over the loudspeakers, the cameras flashing at an astounding rate as his score was posted.

113.46. A full ten points ahead of Javier. 

The crowd roared. Victor pulled Yuuri close and kissed him hard. Cameras were flashing all around them, but Yuuri didn’t care, kissing him back, twisting his hand in Victor’s hair. 

 _You don’t have to be the lonely champion anymore,_ he thought. _I’m here now. When everything else ends, I’ll still be here._

Eventually Victor pulled back, his smile blinding, and stood to wave at his fans.

After a few more minutes, they were released from the kiss and cry. Victor was roped into some impromptu interviews, but he was finally able to walk over to a bench to change out of his skates.

“We are just going back to the hotel tonight, right?” Yuuri asked, handing Victor his phone, which he’d been holding while he skated. “This has been buzzing a lot, by the way.”

“Yeah, I was thinking a quiet night in with room service.” 

“How _quiet_ were you thinking, exactly?” Yuuri asked innocently.

Victor waggled his eyebrows as he started unlacing his skates. Yuuri let his imagination run wild, thinking about what they could get up to...though Victor did need to rest for the free skate, so they couldn’t go _too_ wild.

Victor’s phone buzzed for the tenth time. He picked it up, frowning down at it. He unlocked it and started reading the long string of texts...and his entire being went rigid almost immediately.

He read through them once, then scrolled back up to the top and read them again. A couple of skaters came over to chat, so Yuuri made small talk. Victor simply sat and stared at his phone, failing to acknowledge the other skaters with so much as a nod. 

When they left, Yuuri touched his arm. “What is it?” 

Victor’s eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment...just a moment...fear passed over his expression.

But then it was gone again. He smiled, locking his phone. “Chris wants to meet me for a drink tonight. Do you mind?”

Yuuri sighed, his ideas for the evening evaporating into the ether. He couldn’t fault Victor for wanting to hang out with his friend again, though, since they hardly ever got to see each other. “Of course not. I’ll go take a bubble bath in that huge tub.” 

Victor nodded distractedly. “I’ll just shower in the locker room and go straight there. I’ll see you later?" 

“Okay,” Yuuri said, shouldering his gear bag. “Eat something when you’re out, please? Don’t just get drunk.” 

Victor laughed, but it was tinged with something sharp. “I won’t. I promise.”

Yuuri hesitated a bit longer, watching Victor change out of his skates; his hands were shaking, but that could just be from the adrenalin. 

“You can just go, I’ll be fine,” Victor said without looking up. 

“Okay. Love you.” Yuuri pecked his cheek and walked toward the exit, trying to ignore the tinge of worry that had lodged deep in his gut.

 

 

* * *

Back at the hotel, Yuuri ordered room service—including some extra food for Victor just in case—and watched a Slovakian show he couldn’t understand. From what he could glean, a man was stalking a woman, her fear and anxiety increasing with each progressive scene, but that was about all he could understand without knowing the language.

After he was done eating, Yuuri drew a bath. He dimmed the lights and put on some soothing music, sinking down into the bubbles, sighing. He’d been putting in so many hours of practice for so long, travelling so much, and it was really starting to take its toll. Technically, hot water wasn’t actually good for his muscles—a cold ice bath was better—but this was exactly what he wanted at the moment.

Yuuri had just stepped out and was putting on a robe when he heard the front door open and close.

“Hello?” he called out, tying the robe as he walked out into the living room. 

Victor was sitting on the couch, head in his hands, sleeves of his button-down rolled up hastily, top buttons undone.

Yuuri stopped short, hair dripping onto the carpet. “Victor?” he asked tentatively. 

Dropping his hands, Victor looked up at him. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, skin ghostly white.

Yuuri’s heart immediately plummeted. 

He crossed the room in a few quick strides. “Victor, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Victor looked up at him for a moment, then wordlessly slid to his knees in front of Yuuri, pressing his face directly into Yuuri’s stomach, clutching him as if he were hanging on for dear life. 

Confusion and fear pounded through Yuuri’s veins in equal amounts. He combed his fingers through Victor’s hair, the most easily accessible part of him, since he was caught in an upright position by Victor’s vice-like grip. Victor took a few shuddering breaths, and Yuuri realized that he was trembling. 

“Is it the free skate tomorrow?” Yuuri asked, his voice small, but somehow still far too loud in the oppressive silence of the hotel room. 

Victor made a noise into his stomach. His fingertips pressed into Yuuri’s skin, desperate, heart-wrenching.

“Victor, please,” Yuuri begged. “Talk to me. You’re...you’re scaring me.”

Yuuri stepped back a little, trying to get Victor to release his grip. Victor let him, but instead of standing up, he simply tugged the tie of the robe, pulling the folds of it apart.

“I owe you, I think.” Victor’s voice was hoarse.

Yuuri blinked at him, confused. “You...what?”

Victor slid his hands up Yuuri’s thighs, biting his lip. His hair was in his eyes as he circled his thumb and forefinger around Yuuri’s cock, leaning down to lick the head. 

“Victor,” Yuuri’s voice was going a bit breathy, his cock starting to take an interest, filling out under Victor’s hands. “I don’t think—”

Victor wordlessly bent down and sank down onto his cock, cutting off his words. Yuuri moaned, his head falling back a little, whatever he’d been about to say evaporating from his brain.

Maybe this was what Victor needed right now. He never seemed to be nervous before competitions, but maybe...after this many years, the pressure was getting to him. Maybe this was how he wanted to let off steam.

Half of him wanted to let go of the fear, just lose himself in Victor’s hot, delicious mouth. But the voice in the back of Yuuri’s head nagged at him. The tightness around Victor’s eyes, the way he was obviously just trying to distract Yuuri...it felt... _wrong_.

“Victor…” he tried again. “Victor, _stop_.”

Victor immediately dropped his hands, sitting back on his heels. His hair was mussed, eyes red; he looked completely wrecked, not aroused.

“Yuuri, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” he swallowed, sliding his hands into his hair, tugging at it. “I would never touch you when you don’t want me to, I’m so sorry, please forgive me—” 

Yuuri went to his knees immediately, cupping Victor’s face in both of his hands. “Stop, no, that’s not what I—you didn’t do anything I didn’t want, okay? Don’t for a second think that. I’m just worried about you. I can tell something is really wrong. Can you please just...just tell me?” 

For one brief second, a visceral, dark pain flickered across Victor’s expression. It was so fast that Yuuri only caught a glimpse of it...and then something shuttered behind his eyes. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” Victor said, shaking his head. “You’re right, it’s just...I’m worried about tomorrow.”

Yuuri felt a flood of relief. Anxiety was something he knew, something he could understand. He pulled Victor to him, tucking his face into Yuuri’s neck, his hands tracing soothing circles on his back. “You know I know what that’s like. I can help you.” 

Victor choked out a bitter laugh. “I wish you could,” he said into Yuuri’s skin.

“Do you want to eat something before we go to bed?”

Victor shook his head. “I don’t think I can eat right now.” 

Yuuri started to argue that he needed to eat, because he had to compete the next day, but he just sighed, acquiescing. “Okay. C’mon, let’s lie down.”

He pulled Victor to his feet, taking him by the hand and leading him into the bedroom. He peeled off Victor’s clothes and threw them to the ground, all but his boxer-briefs. He didn’t bother to put on clothes, lying down next to Victor, tangling their legs together. 

Victor pressed his face to Yuuri’s chest, and Yuuri held him until the trembling stopped.

“I love you,” Yuuri whispered. “You’re going to be great tomorrow.” 

Victor’s fingers pressed into Yuuri’s skin, but he didn’t say a word.

As they drifted off, a tiny voice in the back of Yuuri’s head kept circling, repeating over and over... _something is wrong._

He squashed the voice, pushed it down and buried it deep in the back of his mind, and eventually he drifted off into a restless sleep.

 

 

 

* * *

Yuuri woke to another grey, cloudy day, completely alone in bed.

He lay there for a few seconds, looking out at the dreary world. Eventually he got up and pulled on some sweats, padding into the kitchen.

Victor was sipping coffee at the kitchen table, a dozen different kinds of breakfast food spread out in front of him.

“Good morning,” he said, a little too brightly. 

Yuuri wordlessly padded over to him. Victor turned sideways in his chair, sliding his hands around Yuuri’s waist, and Yuuri stepped between his legs, brushing his fingers over Victor’s cheek. He searched Victor’s expression for a hint of the trepidation from the day before. There were dark circles under his eyes and he was still a bit pale, but otherwise, he looked normal.

“Are you okay?” Yuuri asked tentatively.

“Of course.” Victor smiled...but it was his media smile, the one he never used for Yuuri, not when they were alone. Yuuri’s stomach dropped.

 _Why are you lying to me?_ he thought. _I told you, I_ told _you never to lie to me. Not when it’s something important._

“You weren’t okay last night,” he said aloud. 

Victor’s grin faltered. “I’m just...I...the pressure is getting to me, you were right.” 

“It’s never gotten to you before.”

Victor sighed, pulling Yuuri forward. Yuuri sat down on his lap, and Victor tucked his face into Yuuri’s neck, breathing in and out a few times.

“What do you need?” Yuuri asked.

“Just hold me,” Victor mumbled.

“Alright.” Yuuri circled him with his arms, pressing his mouth into Victor’s hair.“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Victor clutched him tightly, and Yuuri looked out the window as an icy rain started to trickle down the glass.

 

 

* * *

They got to the rink a little late, but still in time for morning practice. Victor seemed distracted as he warmed up; he fell on a quad loop, which was practically unprecedented for him, and he caught an edge during his step sequence, nearly bumping into another skater.

Halfway through practice, Yuuri skated to the boards to take a break, sipping from his water.

Chris appeared next to him. “Morning,” he said, sipping from his own water bottle.

“Hi,” Yuuri said distractedly. 

Chris lowered his bottle, eyeing him. “Something the matter?” 

Sighing, Yuuri glanced over at Victor, who was practicing his flying sit spin. Something was still nagging at him, but he couldn’t figure out what.

“What happened last night?” he asked bluntly. 

Chris turned to lean against the boards. “You may have to be a bit more specific.”

“After Victor met up with you last night, he came back and…” he trailed off. “He seemed terrified. I’ve never seen him like that.” 

Chris went a little rigid, and he was silent for a long moment. “I’m not sure what he told you, but I didn’t see Victor last night.” 

Yuuri felt a breath of cold air down his neck. “You didn’t.” 

“No.”

“Then...where was he?” 

“I’m sure he was preparing a surprise for you. You know how he is.” Chris sipped from his bottle again. 

“Right.” He had done that before, on Christmas, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. _Except, then, who had texted him after the short program? And why had Victor looked so afraid?_  

Chris put his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “I know I said it before, but I’m really happy for the two of you. Victor deserves someone like you after...everything that has happened to him.” 

Yuuri managed to rip his eyes away from Victor, who was now chatting amiably with Javier at center ice, and met Chris’s gaze.

In an instant, he realized: Chris _knew._

A thousand questions were on the tip of his tongue, but before he could voice any of them, Chris went on. “He may put on a brave face, but some hurts run too deep, Yuuri. Try and remember that.” He squeezed Yuuri’s shoulder gently before releasing it, and skated off.

Yuuri let out a whoosh of air. He looked back over at Victor, who was now across the rink, stepping off the ice. He was probably heading off to go through his program in a corner somewhere, part of his pre-competition routine. 

Yuuri sighed, dropping his water bottle and pushing off again. He worked himself hard for the rest of the morning practice, doing quad after quad, trying not to worry about Victor and not quite managing it.

 

 

* * *

Victor didn’t show up to warm up with his wave.

Yuuri waited by the boards, anxiety starting to seep into his pores, as the clock ticked down slowly. When the announcement for the end of warm-up came over the speakers, Victor still hadn’t appeared. 

As Yuuri turned to walk back into the athletes area, he was cornered by Yakov. “Where is he?”  

“I don’t know.” Yuuri glanced at his phone for the tenth time, but there were no texts or calls. “I was just about to go find him.”

“Fine, just...get him out here.” Yakov stalked off, letting out a string of Russian that Yuuri was glad he didn’t understand.

As Yuuri walked into the athlete area, the screens showed the first skater in the final wave stepping out onto the ice. Yuuri frantically searched the hallways, and the locker room, but Victor was nowhere to be found. He even poked his head out into the stands, hoping that Victor was watching from there; no luck.

By the time the third skater stepped out onto the ice, Yuuri paused. _Where would I go if I wanted to be away from everyone?_

After a moment, he strode over to the stairwell that led to the parking lot. Two levels down he found Victor, crouched against the wall, arms wrapped around his legs and his face pressed into his knees. 

“Victor, what the _hell_ is going on? Where have you been?” Yuuri snapped, his voice harsh in the echoing chamber of the stairwell.

Victor looked up at him, tears trickling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice wobbling. 

Guilt washed over him, seeing Victor like that. Yuuri descended the rest of the way, sitting next to him on the cold cement floor.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, I…I was just worried.” 

He put a hand on Victor’s shoulder, but Victor shuddered at his touch, flinching away. Yuuri felt like he had swallowed glass.

He dropped his hand. “Will you please just tell me what is going on?” 

Victor shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’m...just nervous. I shouldn’t have missed wave warm-ups, I’m sorry I worried you.” 

Yuuri clenched his jaw; it obviously wasn’t nothing, and he wanted to remind Victor of his promise not to keep things from him, but right now he needed to get Victor to the arena. He could hear Chris’s free skate music on the loudspeakers, which meant that Victor only had a few minutes left. 

“We have to get out to the ice,” he said, hearing the crowd roar in the distance. “Javier is about to skate.” 

Victor rubbed his eyes, breathing into his palms for a moment. “Okay. Okay, let’s go.” 

He followed Yuuri back to the arena. Yakov stalked over to them as they reached the boards. 

“You were almost disqualified, Victor. You’re going to send me to an early grave.” 

Instead of his normal witty retort, Victor just nodded, unzipping his jacket, eyes downcast.

“Leave him alone,” Yuuri hissed. 

Yakov scowled, crossing his arms, but he fell silent. 

Javier nodded at Victor as he stepped off the ice and went to the kiss and cry. 

Yuuri took Victor’s jacket and skate guards, his heart still in his throat. 

“I still wish you would just tell me what is going on, but just…” Yuuri looked out at the crowds, thinking about what helped him when his anxiety got to be too much. “Today, just for this one performance, pretend it’s you and me, back at Ice Castle. Just me. No one else. Okay?”

Victor raised his gaze to meet Yuuri’s, but when he smiled, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took Yuuri’s hand, kissing his ring, rubbing his thumb over Yuuri’s knuckles. “Okay, золотце.[4] I’ll skate just for you.”

Victor skated out to center ice, waving up at the arena, settling into his starting pose.

The music started, and Victor began the graceful movements at the beginning of his routine. 

A reporter appeared next to Yuuri, thrusting a recorder under his nose.“Can I ask a few questions, Mr. Katsuki?” He had a ball cap on, pulled low, and was wearing dark sunglasses even though they were inside.

“I’m not doing interviews today,” Yuuri said, eyes still trained on Victor.

“What do you say to the rumors that Victor is cheating on you with other men?”

Yuuri felt his jaw tighten, and he had to will himself not to punch the man in the face.

“They’re ridiculous. My husband and I are happily married.”

“But how would you know if he was sleeping with other people?” the reporter pressed on. “Are you with him every second of every day?” 

Yuuri thought of all the times in the past two days alone when he’d been unaware of Victor’s whereabouts, but he pushed the thoughts aside.

“I would know,” he said, managing to sound more convinced than he really felt.

“What about Henrik Johannson? Are you aware that there have been rumors about him and Victor for many years?”

“I don’t want to answer any more questions,” he said through gritted teeth.

At that moment, Victor looked over at Yuuri, right before he launched into his quad lutz. Yuuri could have been imagining it, but it looked like his eyes widened right before he jumped...

And then he fell.

The crowd groaned in unison. Victor picked himself up quickly, going on with his program, smooth and effortless as usual.

But then he popped the next jump.

The crowd gasped, and Yuuri clapped his hands over his mouth. This was unprecedented for Victor; he never missed that many jumps. 

“Looks like he’s not having the best day,” the reporter sniggered. “What do you think is the reason for this failed routine?” 

Yuuri turned to him, finally, anger seething through him. “He’s still doing well enough to win,” he said, pressing a finger to the reporter’s sternum. “Now get _out_ of my face." 

He turned and stalked over to stand next to Yakov, hoping that the stern Russian at his side would deter the reporter from seeking him out again. Yakov glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t comment.

Victor finished in his final pose, then leaned over, hands on his knees, panting. Eventually he stood up straight and glided over to the boards, stony-faced.

“Are you okay? It looked like you landed on your knee,” Yuuri said, handing him his skate guards.

“I’m fine,” Victor said, eyes darting around furtively.

“What happened?” 

“I was...distracted,” Victor said, but didn’t elaborate further.

Yakov opened his mouth to say something, but Yuuri just glared at him. Yakov scowled even more deeply, but he said nothing as they made their way to the kiss and cry.

After a few minutes, his free skate score was announced: 190.67.

He had won, but only barely, over Javier.

Yakov nudged him. “Stand up and wave at your fans, Vitya.” 

Sighing, Victor stood up and waved, but his grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

The crowd roared, giving their five-time European champion a standing ovation.

Across the stadium, Yuuri noticed the reporter from earlier still watching them, ball cap pulled down but his sunglasses removed. Yuuri felt a frisson of apprehension ripple down his spine when he met that blank stare. 

The man eventually turned his back on the arena and walked toward the exit. As the door swung shut behind him, he threw the tape recorder in a nearby trash can before the black night swallowed him whole.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
>    
> [1] О боже, это было восхитительно = “Oh my god, that was amazing.”
> 
> [2] Виктор! Сколько лет, сколько зим! Как поживает мой любимый клиент? =“Victor! How’s my favorite customer? It’s been ages!”
> 
> [3] солнышко = “my sun”
> 
> [4] золотце = “my gold”
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Javier Fernandez actually won European Championships in 2016, but in the YOI universe, Victor was the five-time consecutive European champion, so please forgive me for unseating Javi.
> 
> [Here's a pic](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Figure_skating_lifts#/media/File:Maia_Shibutani_%26_Alex_Shibutani_Lift_2008-2009_JGPF.jpg) of the Shib sibs doing the lift I described Victor and Yuuri practicing in the pair skate. 
> 
> [This is the hotel suite](http://www.grandriverpark.com/en/rooms/danube-suite) where they stayed in Bratislava.
> 
> Some new gorgeous art!!
> 
> [The fireworks scene at the ball by Deeyosa ](https://deeyosa.tumblr.com/post/173228680754/this-is-a-commission-for-victuuriplease-for-one)
> 
> [The first "real" kiss in Ice castle, by Saniika ](http://saniika.tumblr.com/post/172430012029/commission-for-victuuriplease-from-their-fic)
> 
> Feel free to come yell at me on [tumblr](http://victuuriplease.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/astudyinroseirl) :)


	16. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sports Illustrated article comes out, and Yuuri competes in Four Continents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have created a series for the ESBS universe here in AO3. There will be another fic posted directly after this chapter as part of the series, which is entirely in Victor’s POV and takes place the night after the Short Program of European Championships (timewise, during chapter 15 of ESBS). It’s important to the narrative, so read it AFTER you have read this chapter. There’s a reminder and a link at the end notes.
> 
> Laura longhornletters is a beautiful friend, wonderful beta, and fantastic hand-holder as I wrote this chapter. <3

Snowflakes twirled down gently against the light grey sky out the window. 

Victor was sitting in a large armchair with his knees pulled up to his chin, staring out at the snowy world, his eyes glassy and unfocused. 

Yuuri puttered around the kitchen, sneaking glances at him every once in a while.

They’d been back from Bratislava for a few days, and Victor had barely been eating, though he’d been sleeping far more than usual. He went silent for long periods of time, the skin on the bridge of his nose scrunching up like he was trying to figure something out. 

Yuuri had tried to cheer Victor up, but nothing seemed to alleviate his quiet brooding. With each passing day, the dark anxiety that had started to settle in Yuuri’s chest during European Championships only intensified. 

Victor acted normal around his rinkmates at practice, but he dropped the facade afterward. When they were out and about, his eyes darted around furtively; when they were at home, he sat and stared at his phone, or looked off into space.

Yuuri finished arranging the food in the traditional bowls he’d brought back from Hasetsu, taking off his apron.

“Dinner’s ready,” he called out. “Want some wine?” 

Victor didn’t move or speak, remaining still as a statue.

“Victor,” Yuuri walked over to the living room, moving into his line of vision. “Hey,” he said, brushing his hand through Victor’s hair. 

Victor looked up at him, his mouth still pressed to his knees. Yuuri knelt in front of him, sliding his fingers around Victor’s ankles, holding him lightly. 

“Something wrong?” he asked for the tenth time in three days.

Victor snuffled, reaching out to brush his fingertips against Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri caught his hand, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re worrying me,” he said quietly.

Victor pressed his lips together.“I know,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. 

“I love you,” Yuuri said. “You know that right?” 

A flicker of sadness moved through his deep azure eyes, the light from the window making them appear darker than usual. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Victor said, voice still muffled. “And kind. And good. I keep wondering how I got so lucky.”

Yuuri swallowed, the dark fear spearing down his throat again. _Why does it keep sounding like you’re saying goodbye?_

He stood up and held out his hand.“C’mon, let’s eat.”  

“I’m not really hungry.”

Yuuri frowned. Victor loved food, and his lack of appetite was more disconcerting than almost everything else.

“Well I made something special, so you’re going to eat anyway.”

Victor sighed, taking his hand and allowing himself to be pulled upright. Yuuri steered him by the shoulders over to the table, which he’d already set.

When Yuuri set the bowls down on the table, Victor perked up slightly. “Katsudon?”

“Yep. We never celebrated after your fifth European title. It’s not going to be as good as Mom’s, but it’ll do.” 

“It smells wonderful,” Victor said, picking up his chopsticks.

“Wine?” Yuuri asked again, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of sauvignon blanc. 

“Yes, please.” Victor picked up a bit of the fried pork with his chopsticks, taking a tentative bite. “Vkusno!” he grinned. 

Yuuri felt the tension in his chest lighten, just a little, at seeing a flash of the old Victor showing through. He walked back over to the table with the bottle and two glasses. 

“I’m glad you like it.” 

“It’s just as good as your mother’s. Honestly.” 

Yuuri laughed. “Thanks. Just don’t tell her that,” he said, taking a bite. He had to admit, it wasn’t bad. 

“Mmmph.” Victor was inhaling the food like he hadn’t eaten in days.

Yuuri watched, sipping his wine, as Victor ate quickly. Yuuri loaded his bowl with more.

“Thank you, солнышко,” Victor said a few minutes later, finishing the second bowl with gusto. “It was delicious.”

He smiled, reaching over to take Yuuri’s hand. 

Yuuri smiled back, squeezing his hand. Maybe now was the time to ask him the truth about what had happened at European Championships. Yuuri hesitated, not wanting to ruin Victor’s good mood. But there never seemed to be a good time to ask. 

Before he could start to speak, however, there was a knock on the door. Yuuri frowned, glancing at Victor. They weren’t expecting anyone. 

“Who is it?” Yuuri called out.

“Nadiya.” 

“Did you know she was coming?” Yuuri whispered.

Victor shrugged, taking a sip of wine. “She tends to show up unannounced. We’re lucky she didn’t just let herself in, honestly, since she has a key.”

There was another knock, more insistent this time. Sighing, Yuuri got up and went over to open the door. 

Nadiya swept in, her Louboutin heels clicking on the marble floor. “ _Finally_ ,” she said. 

“Hi yourself,” Yuuri retorted grumpily. 

“Vitya.” She leaned down to kiss Victor on each cheek, though his stony-faced expression didn’t soften.

She pressed the back of her fingers against his forehead. “You look pale.” 

He leaned away from her touch, pouring himself more wine. “Don’t mother me. What do you want?” 

Rolling her eyes, Nadiya sat down at the table, setting her large bag at her feet. 

“Want a glass of wine? Food?” Yuuri asked. His parents had ingrained a sense of hospitality in him from an early age, to the point where it was basically second nature.

“Just wine, thanks,” Nadiya said, pulling a large package out of the bag and setting it on the table.

Yuuri plucked another glass from the shelf and poured her some of the wine. “What are those?” he asked, lifting his chin at the packets. 

Nadiya grinned. “The _Sports Illustrated_ issue is being released tomorrow, so they sent me copies for you two.” She pulled a few magazines out, handing them to Yuuri and Victor.

“Oh, awesome.” Yuuri took one, sitting down. 

The front cover was a photo of the two of them without their jackets on against a dark grey backdrop. Yuuri looked relaxed, his back pressed against Victor’s chest, head tilted back slightly to rest against Victor’s right shoulder. He was looking off into the distance to his left, his gaze unfocused and soft. Victor, in contrast, was staring directly forward, his bright eyes piercing, as if he were daring anyone to try and come closer. His hair was tousled and falling over one eye, his left forearm across Yuuri’s chest, holding him possessively. Yuuri’s right hand was resting gently on his arm. Their muscles looked sinewy and pronounced against the white and black tee shirts, and their medals winked in the light. 

The title at their feet read: _HOUSE OF GOLD: The Katsuki-Nikiforovs Take the ISU World Championships by Storm_

They looked...well. 

“You both look hot as fuck,” Nadiya said crassly. 

Yuuri made a noise in his throat.

“Well, Yuuri looks gorgeous, anyway,” Victor said. 

Yuuri just made another noncommittal noise, flipping to the article in the center. There were several photos of Victor and Yuuri in the middle of their routines; one of Victor in the middle of a spin; Yuuri doing a spread eagle, each of them at the height of a jump. Mona’s makeup was so excellent that Yuuri barely recognized himself; he almost looked like a creature from another world. 

Yuuri started to read the article itself, his heart beating a bit faster than normal. He’d never had an interview for the cover of a major magazine before.

 

 **HOUSE OF GOLD**  

By Sarah Kidwell

 

I ring the doorbell, checking my watch. I’m late for our meeting, yet it still takes a couple of minutes for 2016 Japanese Champion Katsuki Yuuri to open the door.  

“I’m so sorry,” he says apologetically. “We just got back from practice. My coach was brutal today, wouldn’t let me leave until I landed my quad flip perfectly. Sometimes he’s the worst.”

He grins, and I laugh. Since their nuptials, Katsuki has been coached by his husband, Olympic gold medalist and four-time World Champion Victor Nikiforov. 

Katsuki leads me down the hall and into the main living space. “Victor’s in the shower, he’ll be joining us in a few minutes,” he explains.

Katsuki and Nikiforov live in a large, stylish apartment in St. Petersburg, though it is rather modest considering their collective means. Their 2016 gold medals from their respective National competitions are, oddly, hanging on their coat rack in the hall. 

Katsuki seems to notice me eyeing them, and he smiles sheepishly. “Victor likes to have them there, so we can see them when we’re heading out to practice,” he explains. “He says it keeps our eye on the prize, reminds us what we are working for every day.” 

“I’d think it would make you rest on your laurels,” I say. 

Katsuki just shrugs and smiles again. “What did you do with yours?”

He’s referring to the U.S. National titles I received when I was still skating pairs competitively. “Oh, they’re gathering dust somewhere. They aren’t much use in day to day life, are they?”

“No, but still nice to have.” 

He putters around the kitchen, making tea. We chat about the weather and his recent competitions, but he doesn’t seem to enjoy talking about himself. His demeanor could be considered coy by a some, but to me, it seems genuinely humble. 

A few minutes later, Victor Nikiforov walks in, silver hair still a little wet from the shower. His famous poodle Makkachin follows in his wake. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” he says, shaking my hand, the Russian lilt to his words pronounced. “Good to see you again, Sarah.”

We settle into the living room, each of us holding a mug of _genmaicha_ tea made by Katsuki. I sit in a large armchair by a window with a spectacular view, while Katsuki and Nikiforov settle on the couch. They sit close enough together that they can touch each other easily, and Makkachin settles between their feet as if he, too, is part of the interview.

____________

SK: So.

VN: So.

SK: Let’s start with the big question.

VN: Which is? 

SK: Who’s going to win Worlds? 

[VN and KY look at each other]

KY: We both want to win, of course. Wanting to be the best means wanting to compete against the best, even if the best happens to be…well. Your husband. I have always wanted to stand on the top of the podium on the world stage, but I’d be just as happy to see Victor up there for the fifth time. And of course, as you well know, there’s the chance that neither of us could win. [laughs] 

SK: I suppose there is that chance, but it seems like both of you are at the top of your game at the moment. You’ve put up some of the top scores this season. 

KY: That’s true. I try not to think about that day to day, just focus on getting ready for Four Continents first, then Worlds.

SK: Victor, what’s it like skating with one of your greatest competitors every day, who also happens to be not only your student, but your husband as well?

VN: I might technically be Yuuri’s coach, but I haven’t thought about it that way for some time. Having Yuuri on the ice makes me want to skate my best every day, both in practice and in competition.Some of the best skaters in the world choose to be rinkmates for that very reason—like Javier and Yuzuru, for example. Having someone push you day in and day out helps you to reach your highest potential. I obviously want to win, because I have a title to defend. But I think the entire world is going to be blown away by Yuuri this spring. He has the potential to get a new world record with his free skate.

KY: You really think that? 

VN: [he takes KY’s hand] Absolutely. 

SK: Do you have a bet going? Like, whoever wins, the other one has to do the dishes for a month?

VN: [coughs] Um. Something like that.

SK: Not going to tell me? 

KY: Mmmm, no, sorry.

VN: Did you ever have bets like that with Mark?

SK: Not really, I mean, it’s not like we were competing against each other.

VN: Right, of course. It must have been nice to compete as a team on the ice with your husband though.

SK: In some ways it was the best thing I ever did, yes. But this interview isn’t about me. 

VN: [laughs] Right. 

SK: Yuuri, you changed your short program after the Grand Prix Final. I know you’ve spoken about it a bit in the press, but could you talk about what led you to make that decision? 

KY: It was completely Victor’s idea. After I moved here, he told me he’d already started to choreograph a new short program for next year, and he thought it’d fit me well. After my horrific Grand Prix performance, I figured I didn’t have much else to lose.

SK: Even though you only had about two weeks before Nationals? 

KY: Yeah. I trusted Victor. He’s a four-time World Champion. If he says jump, I jump.

SK: Literally. 

KY: [laughs] Yes.

SK: Victor, there have been rumors that you might retire for a while now. What do you say to that?

VN: Those rumors weren’t completely unfounded. As I said earlier, I felt like the passion had gone out of my skating this year. I hadn’t felt inspired or pushed to do better in years. I was unbelievably lucky that Yuuri came into my life when he did.

SK: Yuuri inspires you? 

VN: Every single day. He’s taught me so much in the short time we have been together, both on and off the ice. And he’s one of the best skaters in the world, bar none. I can’t wait to see how he does at Worlds.

SK: Yuuri, what do you think of that? 

KY: I wish you were here earlier, when he was telling me my quad flip was ‘solid gold crap.’ He’s much more complimentary when we have company around.

[VN and I both laugh]

SK: So Yuuri, what got you into figure skating in the first place? 

KY: Erm. Well. Victor did.

VN: Wait, really? 

YK: Well, to be fair, I had skated a bit when I was younger. But seeing him win Junior Worlds when I was twelve...it gave me the drive to move to the next level, and then the next, and eventually move to the States to train with Celestino. I dreamed that I’d eventually get to meet Victor on the ice as competitors. 

SK: Only as competitors? 

KY: Well. I did have a crush on him too. But he knows that part.

SK: You did?

KY: Er, yes. I had dozens of posters of him all over my room growing up.

SK: Sounds like you both have inspired each other in a myriad of ways.

[KY and VN look at each other for a long moment] 

KY: Yeah. I guess you could say that. 

SK: I know you’ve dodged questions about this all season, but my editors say that I have to ask. The two of you married right after the Grand Prix final, in the middle of the night. What was that about? 

VN: We’d been dating for a while at that point. We saw a church that night and Yuuri said, ‘what if we got married?’ I loved him, and I thought, why wait? 

SK: Not the most romantic of proposals. 

VN: Oh no, it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to me, actually. When I woke up the next morning, I was worried that I was still dreaming. But I looked down at my finger and I had a ring, and Yuuri was at my side. Every single day I wake up and the ring is still there, _he’s_ still there, and I can’t believe I’m this lucky.

SK: Okay, that is pretty romantic. 

VN: I’d say so.

SK: I’m sure you’re aware that you’re now being called figure skating’s ‘golden couple.’ Has it been difficult to lead a normal newlywed life among all this hype? 

KY: It hasn’t been easy. We are international competitors, so we fly all around the world constantly, and we are followed by paparazzi almost everywhere we go. It’s been pretty exhausting. I’m looking forward to the end of the season, when we can just kind of…be.

SK: Any plans for the off-season then?

VN: We are going on our honeymoon!

SK: Where? 

YK: Somewhere far away and very private. We are definitely not going to be putting the location in print. 

SK: I had to ask. Okay, final question. And it’s a very serious one.

YK: Shoot. 

SK: When is Makkachin getting a sibling? 

[VN and YK both laugh]

VN: A canine one or a human one?

SK: Either!

VN: Hmmm. Let’s just say it’s something that’s on the table, but probably not until we both retire. 

SK: Sounds like something to look forward to.

KY: [looks at VN, smiles] That it does.

__________

 

Yuuri looked up from the page to see that Victor had finished reading as well. Their gazes met, and for a moment, a flash of happiness passed through Victor’s expression.

“It’s pretty good, don’t you think?” Nadiya twisted her wine glass back and forth on the table, her manicured red nails winking in the light. 

“It makes me seem…” Yuuri trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. 

“I think it shows the real you. I love it,” Victor said.

Nadiya nodded. “It keeps the patina of happiness on your relationship, and helps a bit with damage control.”

“Damage control?” Yuuri echoed.

Nadiya gave him one of her _‘oh honey’_ looks. “You saw the tabloids feasting on the Trouble in Petersburg bullshit, didn’t you?” 

“Oh, right. Yeah. That.” Yuuri shoulders hunched; he’d forgotten about the whole thing with Henrik, mostly because he’d been so preoccupied with trying to pull Victor out of his recent funk.

Victor said nothing, taking a long drink from his wine. 

“Speaking of which,” Nadiya went on, “I think we should leak the fact that you’re doing a Worlds exhibition skate as a pair. It will make people fall even more in love with the two of you.” 

Victor shook his head. “I want it to be a surprise.”

Nadiya sighed. “Fine. But maybe go out on a date or something before Four Continents, show off for the cameras. Act like you love each other, okay?’ 

“We _do_ love each other,” Victor snapped. “We don’t have to _act_.”

Yuuri glanced at him, surprised. He’d assumed that Victor had already told Nadiya that they weren’t faking their marriage anymore.

One of her perfectly penciled eyebrows rose to her hairline, her eyes sliding to Yuuri, then back to Victor. “I see,” she said slowly, her scarlet lips curling upward into a grin. “I thought you were just fucking, I didn’t know it was _love_.” Her voice was tinged with a simpering note, almost...mocking.

Yuuri felt his cheeks heat, and he shrunk back in his chair slightly.

Victor gestured with his glass. “Well, now you do.” 

“When did this...shall we say, shift...occur?”

“That’s not really your business.”

“Well, actually, it _is_ my business. Literally. My business is the business of making you rich, and part of that is using your relationship—”

“Our relationship is not a _cash cow_ ,” Victor interrupted, his mouth twisting in an ugly way. 

Nadiya scoffed. “I don’t think you should tell me how to best do my job. I’ve made you a lot of money over the years.” 

Victor laughed bitterly. “Yes, and at what cost?” 

Nadiya and Victor stared at each other for a long moment, and Yuuri’s mind reeled backward to the night when he’d told Yuuri about Alexei...and all the setups Nadiya had put him through over the years. She, too, was responsible for how lonely Victor had been.

Nadiya sighed, taking another packet out of her purse. “I suppose that you don’t want to hear about all these sponsorship offers for Yuuri, then?”

Yuuri’s jaw dropped. More sponsorship offers? _Plural?_

Victor put his index finger on the table, leaning forward. “You’re my _employee_ , Nadiya, and I’m telling you right now that I don’t want you to play up fake relationship drama in the press anymore. _Period._ ”

Nadiya crossed her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve only been leaking your location once in a while, that’s all—” 

“You think I don’t know you had something to do with the Henrik thing?”

Nadiya’s eyebrows shot up—it was the first time Yuuri had ever seen her look surprised. “I had nothing to do with that, Victor. I told you that already.”

“Sure.” Victor leaned back in his chair, his eyes hard.

Rolling her eyes, Nadiya stood, shouldering her bag. She dropped the envelope on the table. “Take a look at these at some point. I’ll see you both later.”

Yuuri stood to walk her to the door, but she waved him off. “No, don’t bother, though I appreciate the politeness. It seems _some people_ have forgotten how manners work.”

She spun on her heel and walked out, the door shutting behind her with a loud click.

Yuuri glanced at Victor, who was frowning at the table, the short burst of good humor already gone.

“Want to talk about it?” Yuuri asked tentatively.

Victor scratched a hand through his hair. “I’m going to take Makka on his walk.” He got up, walking over to the coat rack, Makkachin bounding after him. 

Yuuri sighed, looking down at his hands. It felt like Victor was pulling farther and farther away from him, and he didn’t know _why_.

 

 

* * *

The next week went by in much the same way. It seemed like Victor was only going through the motions of day to day life.

The one time he was almost his normal self was on the ice.

Yuuri watched from the boards, arms crossed, as Victor swept through his step sequence for ‘Lucky,’ his form perfect, every inch of his body exuding confidence and grace.

Victor had the ice booked after the Russian team practice was over to work on their pair skate. There were only five more days before Four Continents, and then it was a hop, skip and a jump—well, a month—until Worlds. They were behind on getting the exhibition skate into shape. It didn’t help that Yakov flat-out refused to let them practice _Come What May_ during their normal practices, so they had to find time before or after. 

“Yura, Lilia is expecting you for ballet at four,” Yakov called out as practice was wrapping up. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Yurio yelled back, skating to a stop next to Yuuri.

“How’s it going, Yurio?” Yuuri took a sip of his water.

Yurio scowled at him, sliding on his skate guards, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “You two practicing the stupid pair skate routine again?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a gloved hand. He was already exhausted from practice and from a long run that morning. 

“I can’t believe you’re missing ballet just to work on that crap.” 

“We have to do it at some point.” 

Yurio took a sip of his water bottle. “Your salchow is starting to look less shitty, by the way.”

Yuuri smiled tiredly. That was practically a compliment coming from Yurio. “Thanks, kid.”

He ruffled Yurio’s hair a little, and Yurio hissed through his teeth.

Victor skated over, looking back and forth between them, an amused twitch to his mouth. “Shall we?” He looked a little less pale, his cheeks flushed with exertion; but his eyes still had a slightly deadened look to them. 

“Yep.” Yuuri pushed off, grabbing Victor’s hand. “See you later, Yurio.”

“Don’t call me that,” Yurio snapped.

“Okay, bye Yurio,” Victor called over his shoulder.

A stream of harsh-sounding Russian was hurled at them, then, and Victor just laughed. 

“How about we work on the star lift today?” Yuuri suggested. It was by far their most difficult lift, and they’d barely even attempted it thus far—only on land, without skates.

Victor nodded. “Let’s start with the lead-up.”

They skated around the rink, hand in hand. Victor switched around swiftly to face Yuuri, placing one hand on his hip. They looked at each other for a long moment, still gliding, and Yuuri nodded.

 _I trust you_ , he said with his eyes.

Victor inhaled deeply, and pushed Yuuri up to a horizontal position above his head, holding him at the waist with one hand, grasping Yuuri’s hand with the other. Yuuri did a split in the air, and they twirled over the ice. 

“I’m going to let go now,” Victor called up. Yuuri nodded, releasing Victor’s hand. Yuuri’s heart was pounding, but Victor held him steady, and as they got to the end of the rink, Victor swung him down. 

“Whew,” Victor said, panting.

“That was pretty scary, but considering how little we’ve practiced it, it could have been worse,” Yuuri noted. 

“Let’s do it a couple more times, just to make sure we have it.” Victor ruffled his hand through his hair, making it stick up endearingly.

“Can we do the waltz and side-by-side quad toes first?”

“Good idea,” Victor moved closer, taking Yuuri in his arms. “Ready?”

Yuuri nodded, and they began an ice-dance type waltz. Yuuri felt confident enough in the steps that he could look at Victor as they moved. 

“Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place,” he sang softly as they flew over the ice. “Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace.”

Victor met his gaze, his eyes soft though tinged with sadness. 

“Suddenly my life doesn’t seem such a waste; it all revolves around you,” Yuuri kept singing.

They released each other, gaining speed to do a side-by-side quad toe loop, something no pair skate team had ever even attempted.

Then Victor’s hand was circling his waist to lift him, and Yuuri went up in the air.

“And there’s no mountain too high, no river too wide. Sing out this song and I’ll be there by your side.” Yuuri extended his free hand, soaring over the ice.

“Storm clouds may gather, and storms may collide,” Victor’s voice chimed in as he lowered Yuuri again. 

“But I love you, until the end of time,” Yuuri whispered as they slowed to a halt. He reached up and cupped Victor’s cheek. 

 _Come back to me_.

“Come what may. I will love you until my dying day,” Yuuri sang, his voice small and timid against the enormity of the arena, against the chasm that had grown between them in the past week.

Victor’s eyes were a storm, his hands still around Yuuri’s waist.

“Victor—” Yuuri began, but he was silenced abruptly by Victor crushing their mouths together.

He made a small noise of surprise, then slid his hand around Victor’s neck, pulling him closer. 

The kiss was brutal in its passion; desperate, full of heat. It was everything Yuuri had been missing for the past few days. Victor clung to him, his whole body pressing into Yuuri’s.

Yuuri kissed him a couple more times, before drawing back just a little, leaning their foreheads together.

“ _There_ you are,” he said softly, thumbing Victor’s lower lip. “I missed you.”

Victor blinked, then looked at their feet, shoulders trembling.

“Hey,” Yuuri said.

Victor bit his bottom lip, meeting his gaze again. The icy fear was in his eyes again, which made Yuuri’s stomach clench.

“Don’t go away again,” Yuuri said, the tremble just barely noticeable in his voice. 

“I’m right here.” 

“You haven’t been, though.” Yuuri slid his fingers under Victor’s chin, gliding a tiny bit closer on his skates. 

Victor’s breath stuttered, and he shook his head, but his fingers dug harder into Yuuri’s skin. It was like he was fighting an internal battle.

 _Tell me_ , Yuuri pleaded with him silently. _Please._

“Can I...ask you something?” Victor’s voice was soft as the scrape of blades against the ice.

Yuuri stroked his cheek gently. “Anything.” 

“If I... if I wasn’t...Victor Nikiforov, the world champion...if I didn’t have all these sponsorships or gold medals and I was just...just Victor, would you still want me?” he asked, his eyes fathomless blue, his features tight with pain.

Yuuri stared at him for a long moment, his mouth slightly open. 

“Of course I would,” he said. “I love _you_. Not your medals or your money. You, Victor.” 

Victor smiled, and it was his true smile, which Yuuri hadn’t seen in over a week. He pulled Yuuri closer, slanting their mouths together again. Yuuri closed his eyes, basking in Victor’s caresses, his lips, his mouth, his body, letting himself be pulled into his orbit as always. But Victor shook slightly in his arms, and Yuuri couldn’t help feeling like he was desperately trying to hold Victor together...as he slowly fell apart.

 

 

* * *

Taipei was muggy and warm when they arrived.

They’d had an overnight flight to Shanghai, and Yuuri had slept for most of it. Every time he’d woken up momentarily during the flight, Victor had been looking out the window, his brooding etching deep worry lines in his forehead.

Now, their connecting flight had just landed in Taiwan, and Victor was still silent.

Yuuri brushed his fingers over Victor’s hand. Victor blinked, looking over at him, his mouth lifting up into a small smile, though it looked like an effort.

“Did you sleep at all?”

Victor hesitated, then shook his head slightly. His eyes looked sunken-in, like the exhaustion was dragging him down, bit by bit.

Yuuri pushed the armrest up and cuddled up against him, resting his head against Victor’s shoulder.

Victor sighed, resting his head against Yuuri’s, and they sat like that until they got to the gate, just holding each other.

 

 

* * *

As they walked off the plane, Yuuri was hot almost immediately, having worn sweatpants, a thick sweater and coat. It wasn’t even that warm, but in comparison with St. Petersburg, it felt nearly tropical.

They were swept off to their hotel in a town car, Victor holding his hand the whole way, though he was still unnervingly quiet.

Phichit was waiting for them in the lobby of the hotel, bouncing on his feet. 

“Yuuri!” He ran toward them, pulling his surgical mask down to reveal his enormous grin.

He almost bowled Yuuri over in a hug, and Yuuri laughed, hugging him tightly. “Hey, Phich.”

Phichit released him, leaning back to squeeze Yuuri’s face with both hands. “God, you’re so _skinny_.” He clucked. “Is there no food in Russia?”

“There’s plenty, I’ve just been training so hard, I guess.” Yuuri shrugged. 

Victor smiled tiredly at him. “Hey, Phichit.” 

Phichit ripped his eyes away from Yuuri long enough to hug him as well, and Victor looked surprised, but he hugged him back.

“Do you want to go sightseeing with us?” Phichit asked, stepping back.

“I think I need to try and get some sleep,” Victor said. “I won’t be much use to Yuuri tomorrow if I’m this jetlagged.” 

Yuuri shouldered his gear bag. “I need a shower, then we can go, okay?" 

Phichit nodded. “I’ll just wait down here. Do some research about where we should go.” He was still practically bouncing with excitement. 

Yuuri laughed. “Okay, I’ll be back in half an hour.” 

Victor checked them in, and they swept up the elevator to their room.

Their bags were already there, so Yuuri showered quickly and put on some jeans and a t-shirt, grabbing a jacket for later. 

Victor was lying on the bed with the curtains drawn, staring at the wall, holding a pillow to his stomach.

Yuuri sat down next to him, brushing the hair away from his eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t mind if I go?” he asked. 

“You should go. You hardly ever get to see Phichit, I’ll be fine.”

Yuuri sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the clock. It had already been half an hour since he’d left Phichit in the lobby. He was probably getting antsy. 

“Okay, but you should take a shower and eat something before you nap, okay?”

Victor made a noise of assent in his throat.

Leaning down, Yuuri pressed his lips to Victor’s forehead. “I love you,” he whispered into his skin. Then he got up and walked over the door, glancing at Victor’s lithe form in the dim room once more before he left.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri normally wasn’t afraid of heights, but something about being at the dizzying apex of the Taipei 101 tower was extremely off-putting. They were on a bustling observation deck, surrounded by tourists all snapping fuzzy photos of the city below in the fading afternoon light. 

“Here, I learned a trick,” Phichit said, stepping up to the window. “Put your forehead on the glass like this, toes up against the window, and look down.”

Yuuri did as he was told, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. It felt like he was floating on air, far above the streets and buildings of Taipei. It was exhilarating, like the moment in the middle of a quad when he was suspended in midair, and wasn’t sure whether he was going to land or fall. 

After a couple of minutes he stepped back, feeling a bit woozy. “Whoa. Okay. That’s enough for me. I think I’m getting vertigo." 

“Isn’t it cool though?” Phichit was still looking down, his steel-grey eyes wide.

“Phich, I’m hungry,” Yuuri whined. “Can we go now?”

“Okay, okay.” Phichit rolled his eyes, stepping back from the glass and blinking a bit. “Wow, that’s worse than coming out of a spin,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Let’s get something to eat. Maybe at one of the night markets?” 

They took the express elevator down to the bottom, Yuuri’s stomach plummeting with the quick change in elevation. When they stepped out into the cool, humid night air, Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be back on solid ground. 

The sun dipped below the horizon as they made the twenty minute walk to Tonghua Night Market. Phichit linked their arms, chatting away animatedly about this and that and nothing in particular. Yuuri felt lighter than he had in days, being in a new city and seeing his friend...but his thoughts kept turning to Victor. He was probably still lying in bed, given his recent tendency toward stasis. 

As they entered the street market, Yuuri was immediately overwhelmed by the wafting smell of delicious food, the bright lights and colored lanterns. Throngs of people milled about, eating food and buying wares. 

“Oooh, I want to try this,” Phichit said, stopping at a street stall.

He bought a scallion pancake, taking a bite immediately, his eyes lighting up. “Oh god, Yuuri, you _have_ to try this,” he said, mouth full. 

He tore off a bit of the pancake and popped it in Yuuri’s mouth. 

“Mmm,” Yuuri grinned. “Delicious.” 

Yuuri bought pork on a stick, and they took turns taking bites off of it. There were dozens of food stalls, and Phichit wanted to try something from almost all of them. Several blocks later, Yuuri’s stomach was starting to groan from exertion.

“I’m still having trouble with the quad toe loop, but hopefully I’ll be able to land it in competition by next year,” Phichit said, mouth full of dumpling.

“Mmm,” Yuuri hummed.

“How many quads can you do now, three? Four? You’re going to kill it at Four Continents, I bet. Let alone at Worlds.” Phichit punched his shoulder lightly, grinning. 

Yuuri shrugged noncommittally. “I donno. Maybe.” 

Phichit narrowed his eyes at him. “Okay, seriously, what gives? You’ve been unusually quiet all day, even for you.”

“I, uh...” He exhaled, unsure where to even start. 

Phichit took Yuuri’s hand as they walked, squeezing it gently. “C’mon. Tell me.”

Yuuri looked down at their feet, scuffling his dirty Converse against the rough street. “Victor’s been...different. Ever since European Championships. And I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Phichit tilted his head. “Different?”

“I…” Yuuri licked his lips, searching for the right words. “It kind of seems like...he’s depressed? But it’s not even just that. It’s like he’s upset about something, but he says it’s not me. It started when we were in Bratislava, the night after the short program. When he came back, it seemed like he was really scared. Terrified, even. And he lied to me about where he was.”

He sighed again, remembering the tightness in Victor’s eyes that night, the way he’d clung to Yuuri as they slept...and the way he’d flinched away from Yuuri’s touch in the stairwell the next day, like a wounded animal. 

“It’s almost like he has PTSD, or something. And something triggered it.” 

“Why would he have PTSD?” 

Yuuri sighed, adjusting his glasses on his face. He shouldn’t tell Phichit about this, because it was Victor’s story, not his. But then again, Yuuri needed his friend right now. He could just tell him the vague outlines of it, but not the details. 

“He had an abusive partner in the past,” Yuuri said, after a long pause. “He told me about it when we were in Moscow.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Phichit squeezed his hand. “That must be so hard. For him, and for you.”

“I’m trying to help him through it, but I’m just so worried about him. He has been having nightmares ever since we got married, but this last two weeks…” he shook his head. “It’s on a whole other level. He won’t actually say what’s bothering him, so I’m not sure...I don’t know if it’s that, or something else.”

Phichit hummed, and they walked for a bit in silence. “I think,” he said eventually, “I mean, I’m not a psychologist or anything, but...maybe the thing to do is be there for him, just keep loving him. That’s what I’d want, if it were me." 

Yuuri looked around at the bustling market: people strolling by, haggling, eating, laughing. They all seemed so carefree. “But what if it’s not enough?” 

Phichit chewed at his bottom lip. “I don’t know. But I hope you guys work it out.”

Yuuri felt his shoulders slump. “Me too.”

“Let’s get back to the hotel to rest, eh? One of us needs to win a gold medal in the next couple of days.” Phichit smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

Yuuri huffed out a small laugh. “Okay, let’s go.”

They wandered slowly back through the market, mostly in silence this time, just taking in the lights and sounds of the metropolis.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri was in the hotel elevator when his phone lit up, beeping three times in rapid succession. He frowned, unlocking it and looking at the texts from Phichit.

 _Yuuri, I’m SO sorry_ _[link]_  
_I had no idea this would happen_  

Yuuri felt his forehead furrow as he opened the link. When he saw the headline, his jaw dropped immediately.

There were several photos of him and Phichit from just an hour earlier at the market. In the first, they were looking at each other and smiling; another showed Phichit feeding Yuuri the pancake; the third was of the two of them walking down the street, holding hands.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yuuri swore under his breath, scrolling down to the article.

  

**KATSUKI-NIKIFOROV BREAKUP ON THE HORIZON?**

 

 **TAIPEI** — _Katsuki Yuuri was spotted with ‘friend’ Phichit Chulanont at various sights around Taipei this afternoon and evening. Victor Nikiforov, his husband, was nowhere to be seen._

 _First Katsuki and Chulanont toured Taipei 101, then they stopped by the Tonghua Night Market for some street food. They appeared quite cuddly, holding hands and feeding each other in the middle of the street. As we_ _reported on a couple of weeks ago_ _, Victor seems to be hooking up with Henrik Johannson back in St. Petersburg. Maybe Yuuri found his own side piece...or maybe they’ve already broken up, and haven’t made the announcement yet. Only time will tell!_

_Log on to Twitter @starmagazine and tell us your thoughts!_

  

Yuuri groaned, scrolling through the photos, which—from an outside perspective—did look very damning. Phichit was his best friend, his old roommate, and they’d gotten to a level of friendship where casual touching was not a big deal, but some people probably thought it meant more than it did to them.

“How the hell did they publish this so fast?” Yuuri muttered.

Another text from Phichit popped up on his screen.

 _Someone must have been following us??????_  
_WTF._

 _I should have figured someone would._  
_It’s not your fault_

 _:( this is so shitty_  
_Is Victor upset?_

_I don’t know. I’m about to find out_

 

Yuuri walked out of the elevator and down the hallway, trepidation pooled in his stomach. The computerized hotel key unlocked the door with a mechanical click, and he opened the door slowly, walking into the room. Victor was on the couch, hair wet, in a bathrobe. 

“So, you’re leaving me for Phichit, I see?” Victor said bluntly. His eyes were blank, almost glassy, and there were dark circles underneath them.

“Victor, I—” Yuuri started, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, walking quickly toward him. “Let me explain—” 

“I know it isn’t what it seems, Yuuri,” Victor said, putting down his phone. “You don’t have to explain anything. I know you and Phichit are close.”

Yuuri let out a whoosh of air, relief flooding through him as quickly as his anxiety had mounted. “Okay. Okay.” He put his hands on his hips, pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “I’m...I’m just so sick of this.” 

“I know.” Victor sighed, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “Do you want me to ask Nadiya to release a statement about Phichit?” 

“I don’t know, I...I don’t think it will do any good, really.” Yuuri stopped short, chewing his lip. 

“It might not, you’re right.”

Yuuri went to sit on the edge of the couch, reaching out to touch Victor’s shin absently, needing to ground himself. His mind was still whirling, adrenaline pumping through him. 

“It feels like someone is trying to pull us apart,” he said eventually. “And I don’t know _why_.”

Face inscrutable, Victor shuffled toward the back of the couch, spreading his arms. “Can you come lie with me, please?”

Yuuri sighed, toeing off his shoes and lying down next to him, tucking his face into Victor’s neck.

There was nothing more to say about the paparazzi situation; they’d gone over it again and again. But for some reason, the little voice in the back of Yuuri’s head still whispered, _what if it’s true? What if Victor hasn’t been faithful to you, and that’s why he’s been acting so strangely?_  

It was completely hypocritical, though. He knew the truth, and after all, magazines had just made it look like he was cheating on Victor. Victor trusted him, he should trust Victor too. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“It’s not your fault.”

“I feel like I should have seen it coming.” 

Victor kissed his forehead. “Put it out of your mind for now,” he said. “Just focus on your short program tomorrow. I know you’re going to be fantastic.” 

Yuuri sighed, closing his eyes, trying to ignore the steadily beating drum of anxiety in the back of his mind.

 

 

* * *

“I think you should run through your salchow one more time,” Victor said, handing him his water bottle over the boards. 

Yuuri took it, taking a long sip of water. “Okay.” 

He glanced out at the competitors in his wave, who were in the process of doing warm-ups: Shoma Uno, Max Aaron, Phichit, Jin Boyang, and Patrick Chan. Yuuri was to go second to last, right before Patrick.

It was strange not to see Yuzuru out on the ice, but it was common practice for skaters to withdraw from Four Continents in order to focus on Worlds. The eighteen year old Canadian wonder, JJ, had also pulled out of the competition for that reason. Yuuri had considered doing the same, but the deciding factor had been that he’d only skated Eros in one competition thus far. He wanted to make sure the kinks were worked out before Worlds. 

Yuuri ran through his quad salchow a couple more times, then the spread eagle into the triple axle, before the end of warm-ups were called.

Victor was looking at his phone, mouth tight, as Yuuri skated over. 

“Victor?” Yuuri prompted, touching his forearm gently. 

Victor startled. “Sorry.” He handed Yuuri his skate guards, his eyes darting around the arena furtively. 

“I’m going to go stretch during the first few skates.” Yuuri walked over to a bench to change into his sneakers.

Victor nodded. “Okay. I have...I have to go do something.”

Yuuri paused in the middle of unlacing his left skate.“What?”

“It’s...just a thing. It’ll be quick.” Victor glanced at his phone again, distracted. 

Yuuri sighed, looking down at his feet. _More secrets._

“Fine,” he mumbled. “You’ll be back before I skate, though, right?”

“Of course.” Victor smiled tightly.

“Okay.” Yuuri nodded. "See you later then."

Victor swept off, texting furiously on his phone. 

Sighing again, Yuuri finished changing into his sneakers. He grabbed his mat and found a back hallway, putting in his headphones.

He methodically stretched out his quads and hamstrings, then folded into a runner’s lunge. His thoughts swirled around his head, and he wasn’t able to completely get into competition mode like he normally could while he stretched.

Victor was still acting so strangely, and he just didn’t know _why_.

Maybe Phichit was right. Maybe Victor just needed time, and love. Maybe these ephemeral moods were due to his past trauma and nothing more. 

At the same time, he needed Victor to be there for him, too, especially now—leading up to Worlds. 

Yuuri sighed, placing his palms to the wall and bending over. He made a mental note to call his therapist and ask how to best handle this situation. He’d never really been in a serious relationship, and it wasn’t exactly intuitive to help a partner through grief and trauma. He just needed some guidance.

Cheers exploded from the rink, and Yuuri looked down at his watch. It was almost time for Phichit to skate, so he rolled up his mat and went back out to the arena.

Shoma Uno had just finished his routine and was waving up at the crowd as he made his way to the kiss and cry. 

Celestino stood close to Phichit at the boards, one hand on his arm, speaking to him in low tones. Phichit nodded once more and ducked his head, closing his eyes. Celestino stood back, crossing his arms.  

Yuuri walked over, waving at Celestino. His old coach’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing.

“Good luck, Phich,” Yuuri said, once he made it to the boards.

Phichit looked up at him, grinning. “Thanks, Bambi,” he said. Yuuri groaned; Phichit knew he hated that nickname.

Phichit chewed his lip, glancing over his shoulder at the cameras. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid,” he said, pulling Phichit into a hug, ignoring the flashing cameras all around them. “If they have a problem with it, they can eat shit,” he whispered into his friend’s ear. 

Phichit laughed brightly, squeezing him before they released the hug. His name was announced over the speakers. “Gotta go, _lover_.” He winked.

Yuuri rolled his eyes, laughing, as Phichit grinned and pushed off. He waved at the audience as he circled around. It wasn’t his first season at the senior level, but it was the first time he was a serious contender for medals. Yuuri wouldn’t be surprised if he made it into the Grand Prix Final in the next year or two.

Phichit froze at center ice, eyes downcast his hands flared out at his sides.

[The soft piano music began over the speakers](https://youtu.be/6Dakd7EIgBE?t=40s), he spread his arms, smiling up at the crowd. 

He pushed off, gliding over the ice slowly, arching into an Ina Bauer.

His opening step sequence began, cello and violin starting to gain in intensity as he skated. Celestino had required that he do an instrumental piece this year—despite Phichit’s longtime desire to use _Shall We Skate_ in competition—so, of course, Phichit had chosen an instrumental adaptation of one of his favorite Disney musicals.

His first jump was a triple axle, and he nailed it. 

Yuuri did a little fist pump. The axle had always given Phichit trouble.

He did an outer spread eagle into an inner spread eagle, his body moving gracefully through the turns.

As the music picked up, transitioning to the Vivaldi mashup portion, and Phichit went into a gorgeous camel combo spin. 

Victor appeared at his elbow, watching Phichit intensely. Yuuri immediately felt his body start to relax, the tension easing out of his shoulders.

“Phichit seems to be doing well. Could be on the podium,” Victor mused. He looked unbelievably tired.

Yuuri glanced over at him, taking his hand. “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” Victor said. He squeezed Yuuri’s hand, smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

Yuuri sighed, looking down at their intertwined fingers.

Phichit touched down on his triple flip, to some groans from the crowd.

The final step sequence was grueling, his skates scratching against the ice as he sped over it, keeping up with the quick pace of the piano.

His final move was a combination sit spin, twirling upward and ending with his arms stretched to the ceiling.

The crowd roared. Phichit dropped his arms, gasping for air, grinning radiantly.

He picked up a couple of tokens as he skated over to the boards, face bright. 

“That was great, Phich!” Yuuri smiled. “Really awesome.”

“Thanks,” Phichit said breathlessly, sliding on his skate guards. “Good luck! See you after!”

He walked toward the kiss and cry, Celestino at his elbow, no doubt giving him a breakdown of all the things he could improve.

Victor glanced down at him. “Ready?” 

Yuuri nodded, taking off his skate guards and handing them to Victor before stepping out onto the ice. 

Phichit’s score was announced moments later: 82.34. He was in fourth place with two skaters to go; Jin Boyang’s 98.45 was the current score to beat. 

Victor glanced around the arena, his eyes still tight. 

“Hey,” Yuuri said. He reached out and took Victor’s hand. 

Victor’s eyes stopped flitting around and focused on Yuuri. Yuuri smiled, rubbing his thumb over Victor’s knuckles. 

“Keep your eyes on me, okay?” he said.

Yuuri leaned down, kissing the ring on Victor’s finger, his lips lingering for a couple of seconds. He looked up at Victor through his eyelashes. 

Victor’s eyes softened. “I will, золотце. What does Phichit say? Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

Yuuri laughed, squeezing Victor’s hand once more and pushing off.

He circled around as his name was announced, stopping at center ice, hip canted in his beginning pose. 

As the music started playing, he twirled his arms around himself, flicking his hands down his side as he stomped his foot.

He glanced over at Victor, who was watching him with his hands pressed to his mouth.

_I’m going to show you how much I love you, Victor._

He launched into his beginning step sequence, the movements of the routine second nature to him, now.

The seduction was long past. Now, Victor was his, and he was Victor’s. He would dance for Victor, the one he loved more than anything. The one he wanted to be with forever.

 _Stay with me Victor_ , he said with the twirl of his arms, with the sway of his hips. 

Camel spin.

_Don’t push me away._

Spread eagle into the triple axle. 

 _I love you. Stay close to me._  

Quad salchow.

_I can’t make you whole, but I can love you._

He kicked his leg upward, twirling on his other foot.

_I can help you through this. Please, just let me._

Quad toe loop-triple toe loop combo.

_Please, just tell me what’s causing you pain. I am here for you. I love you._

As he went into the final sequence, he barely heard the cheers from the crowd, his focus laser-sharp. He only cared about Victor seeing him skate this routine, knowing that it was just for him.

Camel spin.

He flipped his hands to the side, twirling into his final pose.

The crowd roared, and he blinked up at the stands, his sweat pouring down his temples. 

He dropped his hands and waved up at the audience, who cheered even more. As he glided toward the boards, he grabbed a panda bear from the ice.

When he got close enough, he could see that Victor’s face was tear-streaked, his hands still covering his mouth.

“Yuuri,” he choked out, moving over to the gap in the boards.

When Yuuri stepped off the ice, Victor immediately pulled him into a tight hug.

Yuuri sighed, hugging him back, tucking his face into Victor’s neck and just breathing in his scent. 

“You were fantastic,” Victor said, voice muffled. 

He leaned back, and gaze intense, hard arousal cutting through that deep sadness that had infected his every waking moment for the past two weeks.

There were dozens of cameras trained on them, so Yuuri just took his hand, squeezing it. “Let’s go sit down.” 

They waited for his score at the kiss and cry, holding hands silently. Yuuri fixed his face with a placid expression, knowing the cameras were still focused on him.

The score was announced a couple of minutes later: 105.37. He was in first place with only one skater to go.

Victor beamed, and it was like the clouds had cleared for a startling moment.

He kissed Yuuri’s ring. “Well done,” he whispered.

Patrick was already on the ice, wearing a blue sweater vest over a white button down, sleeves rolled up. He pushed off, holding his arms up to the crowd as he skated around, the audience cheering for him. He stopped off center and froze in his starting pose.

Yuuri and Victor got the okay to leave the kiss and cry and walked over to stand next to Phichit at the boards. 

[The big-band music began,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJrHMUDa4E4) and Patrick swept over the ice with grace and poise, as only veteran skaters could do, gliding across the ice and back again. 

He launched into his quad toe, but the landing was off, spraying ice everywhere as his hand touched down.

Michael Buble’s dulcet voice came over the speakers, Patrick swaying his hips and doing some twirls, kicking his foot up over the ice.

He gained speed, flipping around to launch into his triple axle, which he two-footed slightly, then went almost directly into a flying sit spin. 

“He seems a little off his game,” Phichit murmured.

“Mmm,” Yuuri hummed. “He took a year off, cut him some slack.” 

No matter what, Yuuri would be in either first or second going into the free skate; he was fine with his position even if Patrick beat him in the short. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Patrick’s starting score was lower than his, and that was if he skated a clean program. 

Patrick made it through his step sequence and launched into a combination jump, which he landed easily.

He finished in a camel combo spin, waving at the audience and giving a big smile as he walked to the kiss and cry.

His score flashed up on the screen minutes later: 86.22.

Victor squeezed Yuuri’s hand, smiling down at him, and Yuuri grinned back. He was in first place going into the free skate.

 

 

* * *

As soon as they were inside their suite, Victor pressed Yuuri bodily up against the door, kissing him like he was a drowning man and Yuuri was air.

He palmed Yuuri through his sweatpants, slipping his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth, swallowing his resulting gasp.

“You wearing this costume does things to me,” Victor said, grinding their hips together.

“I know,” Yuuri huffed out a laugh. 

Victor kissed down his throat, continuing to roll his hips against Yuuri’s. Yuuri groaned, his head falling back against the door as he hooked one leg around Victor’s waist. 

Victor bit down at the crux of Yuuri’s neck, hard enough to bruise. Yuuri gasped, arching into him.

“When you do that routine and know you’re thinking only of me, I just.” Victor crushed his mouth against Yuuri’s again, and they rocked against each other.

Yuuri paused, leaning back, their lips making a smack as they parted. He held Victor’s gaze, breath coming quickly. “I wanted you to see how much I want you. How much I love you. How much I always will." 

Victor shuddered bodily, his arousal hard against Yuuri’s hip, but his eyes...his eyes were intensely, deeply sad. 

“Victor,” Yuuri reached out to cup his cheek. 

“I need, I _need_ …” Victor gasped, and abruptly sank down onto his knees, starting to pull down Yuuri’s national team sweats. 

“Slow...down…” Yuuri panted.

Victor didn’t listen, immediately pumping the base of Yuuri’s cock as he licked at the head, teasing it with his tongue.

Yuuri let his head fall back against the door, sinking his fingers into Victor’s hair, biting his lip. 

“Victor... _fuck._ ” 

“I wanted to do this the whole time I was watching you,” Victor gasped, sinking his mouth all the way down on Yuuri’s cock. 

Yuuri couldn’t help pumping his hips forward a little, and Victor nodded, relaxing his throat and letting Yuuri fuck his mouth.

His hips thrust forward, not too hard, because it had been a while since they’d done this. Victor’s eyes fluttered closed, and he palmed himself through his slacks, moaning.

Yuuri felt himself starting to get close, but he didn’t want to come this way; he wanted to hold Victor in his arms as he came. He opened his eyes, wrenching Victor’s head backward.

“Bed. Now,” he growled.

Victor stood, taking his hand and pulling him into the bedroom. As they crossed the threshold, he immediately spun around and unzipped Yuuri’s team jacket, pushing it off his shoulders as he walked him toward the bed, pushing him down onto it. 

Victor stripped off the rest of his clothes quickly and grabbed the lube from the bedside table. He knelt on the bed and lubed his fingers. 

“I need you to fuck me,” he panted, moaning as he reached behind himself, slipping two fingers inside almost immediately.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Yuuri pushed his pants off the rest of the way, throwing them off the bed and kneeling in front of him.

Victor panted, eyes dark. “I need...you inside me...as soon as possible,” he gasped.

“Fuck,” Yuuri’s cock throbbed. “Okay, but still. Take it slowly.” He leaned down, taking Victor’s cock into his mouth as he worked himself open.

“Ahhhh, Yuuriiii,” Victor groaned, pushing in another finger, hips moving back and forth between his hand and Yuuri’s mouth. 

He could tell Victor was preparing himself too quickly, but he was too impatient too; he wanted to make Victor his, make him think of only him. Make him remember that Yuuri was there, that he’d always be there, for the rest of their lives. 

That he didn’t have to fight alone.

“I’m—I’m ready,” Victor gasped, pushing Yuuri back gently.

“Are you sure, you—” 

Victor lay down, his head on the pillows, spreading himself wide. “Please,” he begged.

Yuuri exhaled sharply. “Yes, god, _yes_ …”

Yuuri climbed over him, both of them gasping as their cocks slid against each other. Yuuri licked his hand, reaching down to grasp them together as he started thrusting forward. He leaned in to kiss Victor, swallowing his moans. 

Victor kissed back, hard, his passion still tinged with bitter desperation.“Yuuri,” Victor panted. “ _Now_.” 

“We have time,” Yuuri kept thrusting, holding them together. 

“I...I need you inside me.” The desperate need in Victor’s eyes was hard to refuse.

“Okay.” Yuuri kissed him again, then reached for the lube, slicking himself up liberally and pouring more on Victor’s hole. He pushed a couple of fingers inside, making sure that Victor was, in fact, open enough, and that he wasn’t going to hurt him.

Yuuri lined himself up, brushing his cock against the hole a couple of times, before he pushed in, just the head.

He looked at Victor, just to make sure he was alright, but…

Victor was _crying_. 

“Victor, what...did I hurt you?” Yuuri started to pull out, but Victor’s eyes flew open. He grasped at Yuuri’s upper arms, his fingernails digging into his skin, wrapping his legs around Yuuri’s waist so that he couldn’t move back.

“Don’t,” he gasped, voice cracking. “Please. Just.”

Yuuri leaned down, cupping Victor’s face with both hands. “Are you hurt?”

Victor choked out a laugh. “More than you know. But not in the way you mean.”

“I don’t understand.”

Victor pulled him close, so that their foreheads rested against each other. 

“Fuck me like it’s our last night together,” he said hoarsely.

Yuuri felt his stomach plummet. “But—”

“Please,” Victor said. “ _Please_ , just…do this for me?" 

“Okay, okay,” Yuuri kissed him softly, trying to soothe him, ground him. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, okay?”

Victor nodded, still clinging to him.

Yuuri leaned down to kiss Victor again as he thrust forward slowly, until he bottomed out. Victor’s mouth opened slowly in a gasp as he started a slow rhythm, thrusting in as far as he could go each time, powerful long strokes.

As Yuuri thrust inward, tears started to spill out of Victor’s screwed-shut eyes. He clutched Yuuri’s arms, arching upward into each thrust.

They rocked like that for a lifetime, and Yuuri cupped Victor’s face, kissing him hard as he started to speed up, flicking his hips inward just where Victor needed it. 

Victor reached down to stroke himself in time with Yuuri’s thrusts.

“Look at me,” Yuuri gasped, thrusting harder.

Victor opened his eyes, hand moving faster. Yuuri snapped his hips inward, hard, over and over, holding his gaze.

 _You’re mine, and I’m yours. I love you so fucking much._  

Yuuri kept thrusting in hard and fast, and Victor moaned again, arching upward, his mouth falling open in a wide ‘O’ as he spilled over his hand.

Yuuri thrust in a few more times and cried out as he came, deep inside of Victor, collapsing on top of him for a few moments. 

They were shaking, but he didn’t know whether it was him or Victor. 

After a minute, Yuuri pulled out, picking up his discarded shirt to wipe them both off a little and throwing it down again. 

When he turned back, Victor was pressing his palms to his eyes so hard that Yuuri was worried he was going to hurt himself. 

“Victor?” Yuuri crawled back on top of him, trying to peel his hands away from his eyes.

“I can’t figure out—I can’t, I...” he let his arms fall to the sides, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Yuuri pressed his lips together, taking both of Victor’s hands, pressing them to the mattress by his head.

“I’m here. I love you. Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

Victor looked up at him, sniffing, pain written in every feature.“I’m out of time.” 

“What…what does that mean?” 

Victor closed his eyes, shaking his head, tears still rolling down his cheeks. 

Yuuri leaned down and kissed the tears away, wishing he could make the pain go away just as easily.

Victor let out a broken sob, rolling them to their sides so that he could press his face into Yuuri’s neck.

“Just hold me,” Victor said into his skin, body trembling uncontrollably.

Yuuri wrapped his arms and legs around Victor. “Okay,” he said.

Eventually he drifted off, his sleep restless, dreaming of that desperate agony in Victor’s eyes.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri woke before his alarm to an empty bed. 

He smoothed his hand over the sheets, frowning, before sitting up groggily. “Victor?” he called out.

No answer.

He plucked his glasses from the side table and put them on. He swung his legs out of bed and yawned, scratching his neck as he shuffled into the bathroom to relieve himself. Then he walked out into the living room, blinking sleepily. 

But Victor was nowhere to be seen. 

Yuuri yawned again, glancing around for a note, but there wasn’t one. He shuffled back into the bedroom and picked up his phone, switching it on and looking at his texts.

There were none from Victor, but there were a dozen from Phichit alone, and phone calls from Mari, Yuuko, Minako, and ten unknown numbers. He’d talked to Mari and Minako the night before, right after his short program, so it made no sense that they’d called him again this early.

“What the fuck,” Yuuri muttered. He looked at the most recent texts from Phichit, frowning in confusion. 

_Yuuri._

_Fucking call me._

  

**NIKIFOROV LOCKS LIPS WITH MYSTERY HOTTIE**

 

_We now have definitive proof that Victor Nikiforov has been unfaithful to his husband, Yuuri Katsuki._

_Several news outlets received these photos late last night, showing Nikiforov kissing an unknown man._

_[picture of Victor, his eyes closed, a dark haired man holding his face and kissing him. The man’s face is obscured as the shot is taken over his shoulder, but it’s definitely not Yuuri.]_

_In these photos, Nikiforov is in the same clothes_ **_he was seen wearing_ ** _as he left the Short Program portion of European Championships last month. We don’t know for sure what happened after these shots were taken, but given that they are in a hotel room and there’s a bed just next to them, we can guess._  

 

The screen was starting to blur, a ringing in Yuuri’s ears.

It was Victor, no question, and he was wearing the outfit he’d been in when he’d come home from ‘meeting up with Chris.’ In the photo, his hands were clenched at his sides, his eyes squeezed shut, but he wasn’t pushing the dark-haired man away. He was letting this man kiss him, whoever he was.

What else had he done? Was that why had he been so wrecked when he’d gotten back, and tried to go down on Yuuri...because he’d felt guilty? Was that why he’d been acting so withdrawn for weeks? 

Heart pounding, Yuuri exited the screen and immediately called Victor.

It rang twice, then went to voicemail. Victor’s voice message came on: “This is Victor Nikiforov. I’m probably skating right now and can’t get to the phone. If you’re a member of the press, please call my manager, Nadiya. If you’re a friend or my wonderful husband Yuuri, leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I leave the ice!”

“Victor,” Yuuri choked out after the beep. “Where are you? I woke up and you’re gone. I...there’s all these photos online of you kissing some guy when we were in Bratislava. I…” he sniffed, tears starting to prickle at his eyes. “Please, just...call me, I need...to talk to you. Please.”

Once he hung up, he immediately called Victor again, twice, but each time it went straight to voicemail.

Yuuri let his phone fall to his lap, staring at it in disbelief.

Victor had never acted like this before. He’d never just...completely left Yuuri alone like this, with no explanation. 

A deep, visceral feeling of foreboding started to lodge itself in Yuuri’s chest.

He started to text Phichit back, but then there was a knock on the door.

“Victor?” he called out, scrambling off the bed and striding quickly over to it.

He wrenched the door open. “Victor—” he gasped.

“Yuuri, for fuck’s sake, why didn’t you pick up?” Phichit asked, shouldering his way in. Yuuri glanced down the hallway, but it was empty. 

“I was sleeping, my phone was off,” Yuuri said flatly, closing the door with a slam. 

“Did you see them?” Phichit demanded. “The photos of Victor kissing that guy?”

Yuuri nodded, jaw clenching. “I saw them.”

“Why did he do that? Did you ask him?”

Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need caffeine for this conversation,” he muttered, turning toward the kitchen. 

“Where is he?” Phichit asked, starting to follow him. “And who is that guy?” 

Yuuri turned on his heel, rounding on him. “I don’t _know_ , Phich, okay?” he snapped. “I woke up and he was gone. I don’t know who that guy is, and Victor’s not answering my calls or texts and _I don’t know what’s going on_ , okay?” 

Phichit flinched, opening his mouth, then closing it again. 

Hot tears finally started to spill onto Yuuri’s cheeks, his hands clenched at his sides, and he was _angry._

He was angry at Phichit, and at Victor; at the unknown hot guy, and at the tabloids, and most of all at himself, because he was obviously not going to keep it together. But he had to, because he was due to compete in just a few short hours. 

Phichit said nothing. He simply walked past Yuuri, into the kitchen, and started setting up the coffee pot. 

Yuuri immediately felt guilty for yelling at him. This wasn’t Phichit’s fault, none of it was. 

He swallowed, following him.

“Phich, I—” 

“Just sit down,” Phichit said, pouring water into the coffeemaker. “Try and do some breathing exercises, okay? I’ll get the coffee going and some breakfast, and then we’ll…we’ll figure it out,” he said, a slight tremble to his voice. 

“But—” 

“ _Sit_ ,” Phichit said, pointing to one of the high top chairs by the counter. 

Yuuri clicked his mouth shut and obeyed.

As Phichit ground the coffee, Yuuri took out his phone again. 

He scrolled through all the texts and calls, hoping he’d just missed it, but there definitely hadn’t been anything from Victor.

Yuuri glanced over at Phichit, who was now making toast. He clicked on the link to the photos again, his stomach plummeting as he started reading the Twitter comments.

 

 **@Vityaluvrrr** Well, I can’t say I told you so, but I TOLD YOU SO. Victor, you slut. Good for you. #onceaslutalwaysaslut

 **@giacomettis** Uh, so. Does this mean that Victor’s back on the market? #Ivolunteerastribute

 **@victuuriforever** I really hope this is fake

 **@sayurisdream** Welp. I guess that’s a wrap on the Kastuki-Nikiforovs, folks. Yuuri who?

 

Only a few tweets in, Yuuri’s vision swam, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Phichit walked over and plucked the phone out of his hands. 

“Stop looking at these,” he said, shoving a cup of coffee in front of him. “Drink.”

Yuuri sighed, taking a long sip. There was already milk and sugar in it, just the way he liked it. Phichit had obviously remembered.

He set the cup down, staring at the brown liquid. The anger was gone, now, leaving a desolate wasteland of exhaustion in its wake. “What am I going to do?” he mumbled.

Phichit leaned against the counter, sipping from his own cup. “I don’t know,” he said, after a pause. “But I hope he has a very good explanation for all of this.”

Before either of them could say more, Phichit’s phone rang—the tune from _Shall We Skate_ harsh in the silence of the room. Phichit pulled it out, grimacing when he saw the screen.

He thumbed the green ‘accept’ button, tucking his phone in his ear as he walked over to the fridge and took out some eggs.

“I’m with Yuuri,” Phichit said immediately.

He paused, listening for a moment as he put the eggs on the counter. “Oh, okay, yeah. I was going to suggest that we not go to morning skate anyway. Yuuri’s—”

He paused again. “Yeah. Okay. See you then.”

He took a bowl out of a cabinet, and started cracking eggs into it, adding some milk. 

“Ciao Ciao?” Yuuri asked. 

Phichit nodded. “He said morning skate is a zoo, the press are fucking everywhere, waiting for you and Victor to show. He said we should just skip it and warm up later.” 

He took out a pan, humming under his breath as he moved around the kitchen in bare feet

Yuuri felt an overwhelming sense of affection for him. Despite the howling maelstrom in his head at the moment, at least he wasn’t alone.

“Thanks, Phich.” 

“You don’t need to thank me." 

“I know, but…” He ducked his head, blinking away tears.

Phichit turned around. Seeing Yuuri’s expression, he walked over and put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “I’ve got your back, Bambi.”

Yuuri choked out a laugh, nodding. Phichit smiled, his lips pressed thin, and turned back to the eggs. 

 

 

* * *

Hours later, showered and packed for the free skate, Yuuri was sitting on the couch, staring at his phone, which remained damingly silent. 

“We better go,” Phichit said reluctantly, shouldering his gear bag.

“I know,” Yuuri said. With every second that ticked by, with every passing moment that he didn’t hear from Victor, his anxiety went up another notch. Yuuri’s mind was spiraling, imagining all the reasons why he wasn’t there. 

What if he was hurt? What if he’d been injured, and was in the hospital? 

What if he’d simply left Yuuri without a word, and gone back to St. Petersburg? What if…

Yuuri sighed, picking up his own gear bag, shaking his head.

“Let’s go,” he said hoarsely. 

When their car arrived at the arena, Yuuri put on his hat and his surgical mask, though he knew it wouldn’t do any good; the paparazzi were out for blood, standing ten deep on either side of the walkway into the rink. 

Yuuri sighed, looking out the window. 

“Victor, where are you?” he whispered under his breath. 

“C’mon,” Phichit touched his arm gently. 

Yuuri nodded, opening the door. As they shouldered their way out of the car, dozens of cameras immediately flashed in their faces, cameramen shouting from every angle. 

“Yuuri, who was that guy?” 

“Yuuri, Yuuri, over here!”

“Did you know Victor was fucking other people?”

“Are you fucking Phichit?”

“Phichit, what’s Yuuri like in bed?”

“Yuuri, did you and Victor already break up? Was your marriage a sham?” 

Phichit just held fast to his arm, ignoring them all, helping him shoulder through.

They made it inside, adrenaline pumping through Yuuri’s veins as he pulled off his mask.

“God, that was brutal,” Phichit said, shaking slightly. 

“It’s not much better in here,” Yuuri muttered. 

They were in the athletes’ area, where only competitors and coaches could go, but every single person was watching them, whispering behind their hands. Yuuri hunched his shoulders and made a beeline for the locker room. 

The only thing he could do was prepare to compete. Hopefully Victor would show up and explain everything, but until then, he had to get ready.

 

 

* * *

He and Phichit warmed up with their wave, cameras flashing as Yuuri flubbed jump after jump. Eventually he gave up, leaving the ice before time was called.

Phichit tried to follow him, but Yuuri just shook his head. “I need to be alone for a bit,” he said, sliding on his skate guards. “You should practice more, anyway, you missed morning warm-ups because of me.”

Phichit hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you before I skate?” 

Yuuri reached out and squeezed his shoulder, forcing himself to smile. “Of course.”

He ignored the whispers and stares as he walked back into the athletes’ area, grabbing his yoga mat from his gear bag and switching into sneakers. 

Yuuri wandered down the hall, trying to find somewhere quiet to stretch, like he had the day before. He glanced down at his phone as he turned a corner, and stopped short. 

Victor was standing in the hallway, dark circles under his wild eyes, clothes rumpled. 

Yuuri dropped his mat, which bounced oddly on the cement floor. 

“Victor.” He licked his lips, a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue: _Where have you been? What happened? Why didn’t you answer my calls? Who is that guy? Why were you gone this morning when I woke up? Did you really cheat on me?_  

Before he could ask any of them, Victor walked up to him, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a conference room on the side of the hall. 

Yuuri closed the door behind him. Victor dropped his hand, immediately fisting his hands in his hair and starting to pace back and forth.

Confusion, fear, anger and frustration all pulsed through Yuuri in equal amounts. “Where the hell were you?” 

“I...I had to go take care of something,” Victor said distractedly.

“Why didn’t you leave a note? Call me? Answer my calls?” 

Victor shook his head, still pacing. “I couldn’t.”

Yuuri crossed his arms. “Well, I woke up completely alone to the news that you’d kissed someone else. So I hope you can stop with all the secrecy and tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Victor stopped, looking directly at him. He opened his mouth, then closed it, but he didn’t say anything. 

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. 

Victor’s eyes were full of pain, his hair a mess, his hands trembling. He looked at the ground, at his feet. Anywhere but at Yuuri. 

“Who was he?” Yuuri prompted.

Victor licked his lips. “No one. I met him...in a bar that night. It doesn’t matter.”

“So is it true, then?” Yuuri paused, wetting his lips. “You...you cheated on me? You kissed him? Did...did you…” his voice cracked. “Did you sleep with him?” 

Victor’s head snapped up, his eyes widening. The moment stretched out, and he didn’t say anything.

Then, he licked his lips. “Yes,” he said. “Yeah, I…” he paused. “I fucked him.” 

And just like that, Yuuri couldn’t breathe. He stepped back, staring at Victor, head swimming. 

After a few breaths, he stuttered, “W—what? Why would you do that?” Yuuri shook his head. “No. I don’t believe you,” he whispered hoarsely, only barely getting the words out. 

Victor’s face was full of conflict, eyes red. “Yuuri, I—”

“No. No, no, I don’t…you’re just scared, you’re...pushing me away. You’ve been pushing me away for the last couple of weeks, and I don’t...this is because of Alex, isn’t it?”  

Victor flinched slightly, and Yuuri’s heart lifted a bit at the crack in his armor.

“That’s it. After all this time, you’re still afraid that I’ll turn out to be like him, that I’ll treat you like he did. We can work through this, even if…” he winced, pain searing through his chest, “even if you slept with that guy, and you lied to me, I…Victor, I love you _so much_ , I don’t want to…” He took a long, shuddering breath. “I don’t want to lose you. _Please_.” 

Victor closed his eyes, turning away. It was as if he couldn’t look at Yuuri. “No, we can’t work through this,” he said, his voice flat, deadened. 

“Why?” Yuuri took a step toward him. “Will you please look at me and tell me why?” 

It took a long few seconds, but then Victor finally looked at him. “Because,” he began, his voice hollow, “I don’t...I don’t...love...you,” he said haltingly. 

Yuuri’s lungs spasmed, and he stepped back, the sharp sting of the words as harsh as if he’d been slapped. He gripped the table near him, trying to keep himself upright.

For a brief second, he hoped that this was just a nightmare, that any moment he’d wake up, safe in their bed, wrapped in Victor’s arms.

But a second ticked by, and then another….and he didn’t wake up. 

“You...what?” Yuuri said, lamely.

Victor hunched his shoulders. “Don’t make me say it again.” 

Yuuri licked his lips, hand gripping the table harder. “You don’t mean it,” he whispered.

Victor stared him right in the eyes. “Yes, I do.”

“I know you, Victor, I know _us._ You couldn’t fake what we have. It can’t...it can’t just be me...we…” he faltered. 

“Are you sure about that?” the flat affect of Victor’s voice had a slight tremble to it. 

Yuuri’s head was spinning, thinking of all the times he’d doubted, feared this exact moment...

But then, the image of Victor the night before, eyes pierced through with sadness, as he’d made love to Yuuri desperately, clinging to him like a drowning man.

 _Fuck me like it’s our last night together,_ he’d said.

Yuuri moved closer to him. “Please, don’t do this. Tell me what’s hurting you, we can work it out together—” Yuuri reached up to cup his cheek, suddenly needing to touch Victor, to keep himself from falling completely apart. 

“No,” Victor interrupted, batting his hand away, stepping out of reach. “There’s nothing you can say or do.”

“But…”

“I told you what I knew you wanted to hear,” Victor said.

Yuuri’s mind reeled, thinking of all the times he’d said it, the look in Victor’s eyes when he would kiss Yuuri, the soft look of what he’d thought was...love. Had Yuuri just been seeing what he’d wanted to see? Was none of it ever real? 

“Why?” he asked after a moment, his voice hoarse.

Victor hesitated, his eyes darting around, not focusing on Yuuri.“I was bored. You seemed like a good distraction. And the money wasn’t bad either.”

Yuuri inhaled sharply through his nose. The words were so simple, yet so cruel.

“Fuck.” Yuuri pressed his fingertips to his chest.

He stood there for a moment, every breath painful. Nothing made sense anymore.Victor just stood there, his face a carefully constructed mask.

“So all those times you told me you loved me, all those things you did...it was all fake? Just a _distraction_?” His voice cracked on the last word.

“Yes.” Victor’s voice was still flat, emotionless, completely at odds with his eyes, which were a storm of blue. “I am very good at getting men to fall in love with me.” 

Yuuri stared at him. 

“I don’t believe you,” Yuuri said again. “Victor—”

“Yuuri, I…” he interrupted, taking a long, deep breath. “I. Don’t. Love. You.” He carefully enunciated each word. “I never did.”

Yuuri blinked at him, and for a long moment, everything was completely still.

And then something in his chest shattered like a glass ballerina on a marble floor.

Those words, words his brain had denied at first, ripped deep into his very core, leaving jagged, deep gashes. The room was spinning on its axis. He accidentally knocked a chair over as he tried to grab it, and instead he slumped against the wall. Victor stepped closer to him, as if to help him. 

“Do not _touch me_ ,” Yuuri hissed. Victor stopped dead in his tracks, a stunned look crossing his face.

Yuuri slid all the way to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest. Panic surged through his veins, adrenalin making the light in the room too bright, the scrape of his shoes against the concrete floor making him wince.

Strangely, like a thought from another lifetime, he thought, _no, I can’t have an anxiety attack right now, I have to compete in ten minutes._  

“Yuuri—” Victor began.

 _“What_?” Yuuri snapped, looking up at him. Victor looked absolutely, completely wrecked, as wrecked as Yuuri felt, which made no sense whatsoever.Anger surged through Yuuri’s veins anew.

Victor’s mouth clicked shut. “I was just going to ask if you need help.” 

“I don’t need _your_ help anymore.” Yuuri took a long, shaking breath, looking up at the ceiling. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. 

It made sense, in the end. All of it did. Victor could have anyone in the world, anyone at all. There was no reason why he’d pick Yuuri. It had never made sense. And every time Yuuri had doubted, every time he’d thought that Victor couldn’t possibly wanted him, Victor had assured him that it wasn’t the case. 

Because he was _bored_. Because Yuuri was there, he was easy, he was someone that Victor could fuck for a while and then throw away.

“I _knew_ it,” Yuuri said under his breath.

“You...what?” Victor blinked, as if he were surprised.

Yuuri laughed bitterly. “This whole time, I was worried that everything you just said was true, but you kept telling me I was wrong. Over and over again.” Yuuri clutched his legs tighter, making himself as small as possible. “I’m obviously not…” More tears threatened to spill over as he choked out a sob. “I’ve never...I was never good enough for you, I always knew that. So. Great performance, convincing me over and over again that you loved me, that you wanted me. You were a _very_ good actor,” he spat out.

Victor just stood completely still, and then...tears tipped over, spilling down his cheeks. Yuuri thought incongruously that they were beautiful, large soft beads rolling down his pale skin.

But then, directly on the heels of that thought, _Why the fuck are_ you _crying?_ You’re _the one who is breaking my heart, not the other way around._

“Yuuri…” 

“What? This is what you want, isn’t it? You slept with that guy, and for all I know, tons of other people. Henrik, whoever. You gave me a sob story about being the lonely bachelor but that was the real you all along, wasn’t it? I was just the latest chump in a long line of chumps mooning after you, and you enjoyed the attention, enjoyed watching me fall in love with you. You showered me with gifts and praise, and...and all this time, it was just a fucking _game_ to you. God, to think I actually loved you, what a fucking _sap_ I am. I never even had a...a chance. Was Alex just a story too, or was that part real?” 

Victor’s mouth was half open, is shuddering breaths escaping his trembling lips.

“Yuuri—”

The crowd roared from far away. 

“Just stop, stop it, I have to...” Yuuri surged to his feet. “I have to go, I have to skate.”

He stood up, his legs shaking, pausing to steady himself against the wall for a moment, palm flat against the painted concrete wall.

He looked at his feet, dazed. Memories flitted in front of him like dust motes in the afternoon light—Victor kissing him in Moscow as the fireworks went off; Victor telling him that he loved him for the first time, skin pale in the grey dawn; Victor spread out on a bed, his pale skin mapped out below Yuuri’s lips; Victor’s silvery hair reflecting moonlight in the hot spring...All of it was burned into his memory, but he wished he could forget every single moment of it.

It had all just been one long, lingering lie. 

Yuuri took one shaking breath, steeling himself.

“After the free skate, let’s…let’s end this,” Yuuri said, unable to keep the tremble out of his voice.

Victor inhaled sharply. “But…” 

Yuuri suddenly felt completely, utterly exhausted. Down to his very bones. “There’s nothing else to say, Victor." 

But Victor just looked at him with defeat, his hands clenching into fists. “You’re right,” he said hoarsely. “It’s over.”

Yuuri realized, in that second, that there had been one tiny, infinitesimal piece of hope still lodged deep in his heart, hope that Victor would renege on all he’d just said, that he would fight to keep them together.

That he did still love Yuuri.

And then that tiny flicker, that small flame, died.

“Goodbye, Victor.” 

Yuuri turned and left, the door swinging shut behind him. He glanced over his shoulder after a few minutes, hoping that Victor would be behind him.

But the hallway was empty.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri ran directly to the restroom, throwing himself into a stall, his stomach emptying itself into the toilet. When there was nothing left to throw up, he sat back, wiping his mouth off on his sleeve.

He heard Jin’s name being announced over the speakers. He had to get out to the rink or he’d be disqualified. 

Skating was the only thing he had left, now. 

Yuuri closed his eyes, leaning back against the cold, harsh metal of the stall.

 _Pull yourself together,_ he told himself. _It was just a boy. You loved the boy, but he doesn’t love you. It sucks, but it’s over. Now get the fuck up off the floor._  

Yuuri made himself stand up and walk over to the sink, splash his face and mouth with water and blow his nose.

He pressed his hands to the cold ceramic, hanging his head, trying to breathe for a few seconds. Just a few, just enough to get some oxygen to his brain after the hyperventilation. 

He opened his eyes and stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment. His eyes were red and puffy, skin pale, mouth tight with pain.

 _I told you so,_ said the small, bitter voice in the back of his head.

 

 

* * *

When Yuuri walked out into the arena, Phichit was standing by the boards, wringing his hands. He rushed over when Yuuri emerged.

“ _Yuuri_ , god, I was so worried! Where have you been, you missed—” he started, but then he froze, seeing Yuuri’s expression.

“What...what happened?” Phichit asked.

“Victor and I just broke up,” Yuuri said flatly as he unzipped his jacket. 

“What? No, I...what?” Phichit stuttered. “Are you sure? What happened?”

“I told you, we broke up.” 

Phichit hesitated, taking his jacket from him, looking around. “Are you sure? You can’t...work it out?”

Yuuri laughed bitterly. “He told me that he cheated on me. He slept with that guy in the photos. Oh, and, he doesn’t love me. That he never did. I don’t think that’s something you can work out.” His voice cracked at the end, but he bent down to retie his skates, hiding his face from the cameras.

Phichit knelt next to him, putting his hands on his shoulders.

“Oh my god, honey, I…” he swallowed, looking like he, too, was having trouble holding it together. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to skate, and then we are going to leave,” Yuuri said, because that was all he’d planned so far. 

Then he realized...he no longer had anywhere to live. Not only that, but all his clothes were in St. Petersburg.

But most of them were from Victor’s sponsors, anyway. He had his gear bag here, with his costumes and skates. That was all he really needed, right?

His head ached, nausea overcoming him again. This morning he’d woken up thinking he had loving husband, who was also his coach, and a home to fly back to...and now he was jilted, broken and homeless. It still didn’t even feel real; it was like a nightmare he’d never wake up from again. 

“Can I come live with you again?” Yuuri asked, his voice trembling. “I...I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t think I can go back to Hasetsu right now, my parents…” he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. 

Phichit broke, then. He pulled Yuuri into a tight hug. “Of course, of course, don’t worry about that.”

The crowd roared as Jin froze in his final pose.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Phich.” He’d meant his program, but he realized that it could apply to...well. Everything.

“I know. Just go out there and get this skate done, and we will figure it all out.”

It was Yuuri’s turn to skate; his name was announced over the speakers.

Phichit leaned back, putting his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now,” he said, voice low. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you when you’re done. You’re not alone.” 

Yuuri put his hands over Phichit’s, a stab of pain searing through his throat again. “Thanks Phich.” 

He made himself turn away from the safety of Phichit’s gaze and moved out onto the ice, glancing around the rink for Victor’s trademark silver hair, but he was nowhere to be found.

Yuuri settled in his starting pose, staring down at his feet, his gaze going in and out of focus. For a long moment, it felt like everything was a mirage. Then [the music began](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdw1uKiTI5c) over the loudspeakers. 

 _I won’t just survive_  
_Oh you will see me thrive_  

The first few heartbeat-like notes played, Yuuri unfurled his body like a flower, twirling on his back foot.

 _Can’t write my story_  
_I’m beyond the archetype_  

Yuuri started gliding over the ice, twisting on his axis, but he felt sapped of energy, his limbs like lead, every movement a monumental effort.

 _I won’t just conform_  
_No matter how you shake my core_  
_Cause my roots, they run deep, oh_  

He flowed through the turns, stretching into the Ina Bauer, trying to focus on his lines, despite the fact that his entire body was shaking.

 _Oh ye of so little faith_  
_Don’t doubt it, don’t doubt it_

He was barely able to bring his leg up into the charlotte spiral, his body so tense that it was hard to get his leg into full extension.

 _Victory is in my veins_  
_I know it, I know it_  
_And I will not negotiate_

 _I’ll fight it, I’ll fight it_  
_I will transform_

Yuuri launched into his first quad-triple combo, and he knew from the second his feet left the ice that it was off-kilter.

He didn’t even get to the second jump; his leg slipped out from under him and his entire right side slammed into the ice. The crowd gasped, but he got up quickly, wincing, and launched into the first step sequence. 

 _When, when the fire’s at my feet again_  
_And the vultures all start circling_  
_They’re whispering_  
_You’re out of time_  
_But still I rise_

The lyrics mocked him, words once so empowering making him feel even more like a failure, a washed-up unloved has-been.

 _This is no mistake, no accident_  
_When you think the final nail is in_  
_Think again_  
_You’ll be surprised, I will still rise._

He gained speed and launched into his quad salchow. 

_Victor, Victor. I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t do this without you, I can’t._

It was under-rotated, and he went down again, hard. The crowd let out a collective groan. Yuuri stood up quickly, tears starting to sting his eyes.

 _I must stay conscious_  
_Through the madness and chaos_  

He clutched his arms to himself, spinning over the ice. It felt like the lights were too bright, the scrape of his skates too loud.

 _So I call on my angels_  
_They say_  
_Oh ye of so little faith_  
_Don’t doubt it, dont doubt it_

He spun on one foot, kicking one foot up to his hip, twirling over the ice.

 _Victory is in your veins_  
_You know it, you know it_  
_And you will not negotiate_  
_Just fight it, just fight it_  
_And be transformed_

The fight was completely out of him. Every ounce of his competitive spirit had been sapped from his body. It wasn’t even a surprise when he popped the next jump, the triple axle.

He went into the camel combo spin, tears flinging outward from his face as he tucked his hands to the small of his back.

 _Cause when, when the fire’s at my feet again_  
_And the vultures all start circling_  
_They’re whispering_  
_Your’e out of time_  

He was sure that everyone in the audience was whispering, laughing at him, wondering why he was even here. He was nothing; he wasn’t worthy of Victor’s love or a gold medal or even skating at Worlds.

 _But still I rise_  
_This is no mistake no accident_  
_When you think the final nail is in_  
_Think again_  
_You’ll be surprised, I will still rise_

As he twirled out of the spin, Yuuri sniffled, his body feeling disconnected from him, like this was happening to someone else.

_I’m a failure. I shouldn’t even be here. No wonder Victor doesn’t love me._

He wobbled badly on the triple lutz, but managed to land the triple toe loop in the combo.

 _Dont doubt it don’t doubt it_  
_You know it, you know it_  
_I’ll still rise,_  
_Just fight it just fight it_

He didn’t even attempt the quad flip, changing it into a triple flip, but his hand still touched down. 

 _Just let this be over,_ he thought. _Please, end already. I just want to go home._  

 _You don’t have a home anymore,_ said the bitter voice in the back of his head. 

 _You’ll be surprised_  
_I will still rise_

Tears streamed down his eyes as he finished in his final pose. The audience cheered, but it was the kind of lackluster cheer that they gave after a terrible performance.

Yuuri dropped his arms, wiping his face on his sleeve as he skated over to the edge, not looking up at the crowd. He took his skate guards silently from Phichit, who was saying something to him but Yuuri couldn’t quite process the words. 

He walked to the kiss and cry in a daze, sitting down and waiting for his score. He was sure that the commentators were having a field day, especially since Victor was nowhere to be seen.

Yuuri stared at his feet, knowing that he must look pathetic all by himself on the screen, sitting there with no coach, no loved ones near. All alone.

The announcer spoke his name, and he looked up blearily as his score was projected on the screen: a dismal 162.08. His total score was 267.45.

He hadn’t won; he hadn’t even come in second, or third. He was _fifth._

Yuuri stared up at the standings, uncomprehending for a moment. But then he got up and simply walked away from the kiss and cry.

Normally, the pain of defeat could cripple him for days afterward, but this… this was nothing compared to the searing agony that had already lodged in his heart.

The only one he wanted to talk to, the one he wanted to hold him while he licked his gaping wounds, wasn’t even there.

“C’mon, Yuuri,” Phichit said gently. “You can come sleep in my hotel room.” 

Yuuri nodded, walked directly past the press room, ignoring the fact that every single reporter probably had ten thousand questions for him. He grabbed his gear bag from the athlete area, changing into his sneakers, but not even bothering to take off his program costume. 

As they left the arena, he could hear the announcer starting the medal ceremony. He glanced around one more time, but Victor was still nowhere to be seen.

The door shut behind them, silencing the noise of the competition, and they walked out into the humid night.

 

  

* * *

When they got to Phichit’s hotel room, Yuuri dropped his bag and immediately collapsed onto the spare bed. He curled into a ball, clutching his stomach, the tears starting to fall again. Every breath felt like inhaling glass. He knew he was hyperventilating, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

Phichit wordlessly climbed into bed behind him and spooned him, pressing his chest to Yuuri’s back, holding him. 

“Phich,” Yuuri sobbed. “I can’t. I can’t _breathe_.”

“I know, I know honey,” Phichit said, smoothing his hand over Yuuri’s sternum. He didn’t say ‘it’s not that bad,’ or any other useless platitudes, knowing that they wouldn't help. “Try and breathe with me.”

Yuuri tried to inhale deeply, but his mind flashed to when Victor had once done the same, holding him through a panic attack. A fresh wave of agony ripped through him, his breaths dissolving into another round of sobs. Phichit didn’t say anything, just held him through it. 

“I think you should take a pill,” Phichit said, after Yuuri’s racking sobs subsided into shuddering breaths again.

“I don’t—”

“Where are they? Are they in your gear bag?”

Yuuri swallowed, his mouth dry. “Front pocket.” 

Phichit slipped off the bed and walked over to the door. Yuuri didn’t move until he felt Phichit’s hand on his shoulder. He held out a Xanax and a glass of water. 

Yuuri just stared at it for a long moment, about to refuse again. But Phichit was right; if there was ever a time to take his meds, it was now. He took the pill and swallowed it down with a few gulps of water. Phichit placed the glass on the side table, then climbed back into bed and pulled Yuuri close again. 

Yuuri stared at the wall, the tears falling one after another without respite. 

Everything in his head was chaos, incongruous thoughts chasing after each other; like the way Victor’s eyes matched the summer ocean in Hasetsu, the way Victor’s silky hair felt under Yuuri’s fingertips, the way his eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks as he slept, the way his lips tasted as he whispered those three words...

But then, Victor’s voice, in the silence of conference room, his eyes like chips of ice as he said, _I don’t love you. I never did._

Agony sliced through Yuuri’s chest again, and he screwed his eyes shut.

He’d always thought that poets and songwriters were being dramatic about how it felt to have a broken heart, but truly felt like his entire body was falling to pieces. Victor had carved out a part of him, the deepest part, and now that he was gone there was nothing but gaping emptiness there.

Yuuri let out another sob, curling a little more into a ball, like a wounded animal.

“When...will it...stop hurting?” he asked hoarsely. 

Phichit petted his hair soothingly. “I don’t know. I wish I knew.”

Eventually, he felt the pill starting to work—he was still in agonizing pain, but his breathing slowed, at least.

He drifted off eventually, dreaming of a black ocean under a dark, angry sky. An icy wave rose up from the deaths, crashing down on him. He called out for help, screaming Victor’s name, but he was alone, the depths on all sides, sinking deeper and deeper. He couldn’t breathe, or think; he was going to drown.

 

 

* * *

A stony-faced Phichit woke him with a gentle shake of his shoulder in the grey light of dawn. For a moment, Yuuri was confused.

“Why are you in our room? Where’s Victor?” he asked sleepily, voice hoarse. 

Phichit’s lips went thin, and he said nothing. Yuuri blinked up at him…and then he remembered.

“Did I...did I dream it?" 

Phichit shook his head slowly. “No, Yuuri. You didn’t dream it.”

Yuuri closed his eyes again, black despair starting to pull him downward again. 

Phichit shook his shoulder again. “You can’t go back to sleep, I’m sorry. You can sleep on the plane. Here,” Phichit said, handing him another pill. Yuuri took it wordlessly, swallowing it down. 

Phichit helped him sit up and get out of bed, walking him toward the bathroom. “I’ve already packed up your gear bag, so all you have to do is shower and get dressed,” he said, helping Yuuri out of his clothes. Yuuri was in a haze, his motor functions slower than usual. It was strange, like everything was happening to someone else.

“Do you want me to get your other clothes?” Phichit asked, turning on the shower. “From your... other room?” 

Yuuri shook his head. He didn’t want anything that reminded him of Victor, including the clothes he’d gotten while they were together. 

Phichit sighed, helping him under the spray.

After he left, Yuuri watched the water swirling toward the drain.

He didn’t even feel like crying anymore. He didn’t feel anything anymore.

 

 

* * *

The airport was a sensory overload; people moving too quickly, the lights unbearably bright. It made Yuuri feel like he was going to vomit. He pulled his hat down as low as it could go, his mask over his mouth, hoping no one would recognize him. He didn’t think he could sign autographs and smile at selfies anymore. 

No one even looked at him. Probably because he wasn’t with Victor. 

The thought was like touching a hot iron. He winced, stopping in his tracks.

Phichit stopped a couple of paces ahead of him. “Yuuri?”

Yuuri made himself move, shuffling forward, arms clutched around himself. Apparently, he was going to have to get used to being in pain, feeling like half a person.

They waited in line at the gate to board. He was in a daze, like he was underwater. It was probably partially from the pills; he was starting to go completely numb.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Okay, that’s driving me nuts,” Phichit said. “Give it to me." 

Yuuri took it out and handed it to him wordlessly.

“Yuuri, there’s ten missed calls and twenty four texts from—” Phichit paused. “From him.” 

Yuuri didn’t say anything, just moved forward as the line moved. 

“Are you sure he actually wanted—” 

“I’m fucking sure, Phich,” Yuuri snapped. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Can you just...just block his number or something?” 

Phichit looked down at the phone skeptically, which started buzzing again. 

“Just do it,” Yuuri said.

Phichit nodded, pocketing the phone. 

When they got to the front of the line, Phichit handed his ticket to the attendant and started to walk down the jetway. Yuuri gave his ticket to the flight attendant, and started to follow him. 

“Yuuri!” he heard someone call from far away. 

Yuuri stopped, glanced over his shoulder.

It was Victor, running towards him. Yuuri blinked, wondering if he was hallucinating, but he blinked again, but he was still there.

“Yuuri!” Victor called out. “Yuuri, please, wait, _please_ —” 

Yuuri stared at him for a long moment. For a second, he considered stepping out of line. 

But then, slowly, he turned and started walking down the jetway. 

There was some kind of scuffle from behind him, but Yuuri just kept walking, forcing himself not to look back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you are about to go scream at me in the comments, but first:
> 
> After this chapter was posted, there was another fic created in this series, "in bocca al lupo," which you can read [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840565). It takes place right after the short program in European Championships, from Victor’s POV. You should read that fic directly after this chapter, as it answers a lot of the questions I know all of you have...especially about why Victor just broke up with Yuuri. 
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://victuuriplease.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/astudyinroseirl).


	17. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri returns to Detroit with Phichit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for WARNINGS.
> 
> If you haven’t read the companion fic in Victor’s POV, [in bocca al lupo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840565), STOP. Go read that before you read this chapter. It’s important to your understanding of the narrative at this point.
> 
> Also, [here’s a link](http://victuuriplease.tumblr.com/post/174571548156/this-text-conversation-takes-place-after-the-free) to a convo between Chris and Victor that takes place after the free skate of European Championships.
> 
> [Longhornletters](http://longhornletters.tumblr.com/), beta extraordinaire, kept me sane when I had major freakouts about this chapter. Laura, you rock my world.
> 
> I'm so excited to announce that I'm now doing a collab for each chapter with the wonderful [chat-noir-chocolat](http://ladynikiforova.com/)! Ely is going to draw art for each chapter, including going back and doing the chapters I have already published. I'll be posting the art at the beginning of each chapter here, and also reblogging them on tumblr <3
> 
> I have not been able to get to all of your comments from the last chapter, but please know that I have seen them and I appreciate every one of them. I just figured that you'd rather I get the next chapter out quickly than respond to them all. But I will try to get to them after this!
> 
> Finally, on a related note, I am no longer going to reply to shitty comments on my fic, I'll just be deleting them. So save yourself some time, and maybe go outside and pet a puppy, or join a cause or something instead :D

Art by chat-noir-chocolat <3 

 

 

* * *

There were twenty-seven cinder blocks comprising the wall by Yuuri’s bed.

The cheap paint over the concrete was dingy, dusty, as if it hadn’t been cleaned for some time, but there was one large, slightly lighter square in the middle where there had been a poster up until yesterday. The remnants of dirty tape still stuck to the wall on all four corners, framing the square.

Yuuri stared at the lighter spot as the sun chased itself across the floor.

The only sound in the room was the scratching of the hamsters in their cage; a couple of times, he could hear students chattering away as they walked down the hallway. He felt removed from it all, from the sounds of life outside.

The sun slowly faded to nothing.

The door opened and closed, but Yuuri didn’t move. Phichit toed off his shoes and padded over, the bed dipping as he sat down on it.

“Hey. Sorry I couldn’t come back earlier. I had back-to-back classes and then afternoon practice. But I brought you some food.”

Yuuri just sighed.

The bed moved as Phichit got up and crossed in front of Yuuri’s vision, sitting on the floor.

Yuuri didn’t have his glasses on, so Phichit’s features were a bit blurry. Yuuri blinked at him, trying to focus on his face.

“Hey,” blurry-Phichit said. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Yuuri nodded, the small motion feeling like a monumental effort.

Phichit reached out and took Yuuri’s hand, which was lying limply on the bed.  

“Do you think you could eat something?”

Yuuri licked his dry lips. “I’m not hungry,” he croaked.

Phichit sighed, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. “I’m getting increasingly frantic calls from your mom, Mari, Minako and Yuuko.”

Letting out a small groan, Yuuri turned his face into the pillow. The very thought of talking to anyone, having to explain...anything, made him nauseous.

“I told them you’re with me, you’re...well, alive, and that you’re not in the mood to talk at the moment. But I’m pretty sure they know something is up. Do you want to talk to anyone? I can give you back your phone if you want.”

“No.” Yuuri didn’t move, his face still pressed to the pillow.  “I...I can’t.”

“Okay. Well. It’s been a whole day since you’ve left this bed. Can you at least eat something? Take a shower maybe?”

Yuuri turned to look at him; Phichit’s mouth was tight, his eyes lined with worry. “I’m tired, Phich. I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.”

Phichit sighed again, rubbing his hand over his face. “Will you at least take another pill? You haven’t had one since last night. Maybe it will help.”

Without waiting for an answer, Phichit picked up the prescription bottle from Yuuri’s bedside table. He shook out one of the pills and grabbed Yuuri’s water bottle.

“Sit up just a bit, please,” he said gently, touching Yuuri’s shoulder.

Groaning, Yuuri made himself sit up just enough that he could take the pill and swallow some water. He fell back down immediately, clutching a pillow to his stomach.

Phichit tucked the covers around him, smoothing Yuuri’s greasy hair back from his forehead. “I’m going to put your water bottle by the bed, okay? I’m going to study at my desk, so just let me know if you need anything."

Yuuri nodded minutely. Phichit smiled wanly, and then his face was gone.

 _He’s treating me like I’m sick, like I’m on my deathbed_ , Yuuri thought.

 _Aren’t you?_ asked the small, bitter voice in the back of his head.

The sound of Phichit starting to type on his computer, of rustling pages, was soothing in its normality. But the second Yuuri closed his eyes, visions of Victor smiling, laughing, flitted through his mind. He choked on a sob, thumping his head against the pillow.

Eventually, the pill started to work, and he drifted off.

 

 

* * *

 

They were on a cliff side under an angry grey sky. Waves crashed against the rocks below, frothing with foam.

Victor was right in front of him, his back turned to Yuuri, hair and coat whipping around him in the wind. Yuuri called out to him, but for some reason, no sound came out.

As he watched, Victor started walking directly toward the cliff.

Yuuri started running toward him, shouting, trying to get him to stop, but Victor either didn’t hear him or didn’t listen.

Victor was getting dangerously close to the edge. Yuuri screamed his name frantically, but Victor just kept going, his feet about to meet only air...

Yuuri jolted awake in a dark room, covered in sweat. He glanced over at Phichit, who snuffled a little in his sleep and turned over.

Sighing, Yuuri pressed his palms to his eyes until he saw stars, his heart pounding in his ears. 

After a few seconds, he dropped his hands, looking up at the ceiling as his vision cleared. The adrenalin was still pumping through him, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep.

He got up quietly, stripping out of his cold, wet clothes and throwing them toward the laundry bin. Luckily, some of his old clothes were still in the closet. He rummaged around until he found some sweats and a sweater, pulling them on quickly. It was still bitterly cold in Detroit, especially at night, so he also threw on his blue pea coat, the only thing that he’d kept from his time in St. Petersburg.

As he looked around for his keys, his eyes fell on his phone, which was sitting innocuously on Phichit’s desk.

He stared at it for a long moment, then finally grabbed it before he slipped out the door.

It was about four in the morning, so there weren’t many students out on campus. Yuuri walked aimlessly, generally in the direction of downtown, his breath billowing out in front of his face in clouds. He’d forgotten to bring gloves, so he stuck his hands into the deep pockets of his coat, teeth chattering. The cold shocked his system after the mild climate in Taipei.

Nearly an hour later, he ran into a dead end: the waterfront.

Yuuri stopped at the railing, looking out at the dark water. Dawn was still hours away, but even so, a few people were jogging along the river path, though they were few and far between. The sky was dark, empty of stars, the wind whipping over the water.

For a long time, he just stood there, gazing out at the river, thinking about nothing.

He had never expected to be back here; he’d thought he was going to live and train in St. Petersburg indefinitely. At least, until he and Victor retired and decided what to do afterward.

He flinched away from that train of thought.

Slowly, knowing that it was a bad idea, Yuuri pulled out his phone, fingers trembling, and switched it on. Dozens of calls and messages buzzed in, one after another.

Breath shuddering through his lips, he tapped on the missed calls. Victor’s name was on the list, over and over again. Yuuri scrolled down, counting them.

Thirty-eight. Victor had called him _thirty-eight_ times, and left nearly as many voicemails.

Yuuri stared at the phone for a moment, then tapped on the first voicemail and held it up to his ear.

“ _Yuuri, I don’t...I need to talk to you again, please. I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, but please call me back, I don’t know where you are_ —”

Yuuri stopped the message, panting, clutching his chest. Hearing his voice was like inhaling shards of glass.

He stared out at the water for a long moment, clutching the phone so hard that his knuckles turned white, breath shaking out of his lips.

And then he hurled the phone as far as he could.

It barely made a sound when it hit the water, making a small splash before it was swallowed up into the black depths of the Detroit River forever.

For a long moment, Yuuri stared out at the spot where it had vanished, clutching the railing with both hands to keep himself upright, sobs bubbling up in his chest once more.

His vision was blurring, so he brushed the tears away on his sleeve...but as he did, his eyes caught on his hand. On his ring.

_Oh._

Shaking, he thumbed the band with his left hand, his heart pounding.

A memory hit him like a freight train: the first morning he’d woken up with with Victor in Sochi, winter sunlight glinting against the yellow gold; Victor’s stunned, azure eyes under his sleep-mussed hair as they met each other’s gaze.

The ring had become such a part of him that he barely even noticed it anymore.

But now... _now_ , the gold was dull in the dark light from the street lamps.

After a few moments, he started twisting it off his finger, hiccuping breaths dissolving into small sobs again.

When it finally came off, he held the tiny piece of metal in his palm, feeling the weight of it.

He stared out at the water for a long time. The wind picked up, ruffling his hair a bit, as he tried to find the will to hurl it into oblivion.

But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

_There are some things that can’t be undone._

After a long time, he slipped the ring into his pocket.

He stared out at the dark water, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Eventually, he turned and started walking slowly back toward the dorm, the dark night creeping toward dawn.

Phichit was gone when he returned, probably already on his way to morning practice.

Yuuri took his ring out of his pocket, staring down at it for a long time, before he opened his top drawer and placed it carefully inside.

He stripped off his coat, throwing it on his chair, and immediately got back in bed, exhaustion pulling him under into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

* * *

When he awoke, it was already mid-afternoon.

He stared at the wall for a while—at the spot where Victor’s eyes had once been, his arms arching backward into a graceful Ina Bauer.

Squeezing his eyes shut again, Yuuri turned over.

The next time he woke up, the room was pitch black. It was discombobulating; he’d slept all day, apparently, and now he felt wide awake.

He automatically reached for his phone to check the time, before he remembered that he no longer had one. However, there was a note propped up on his side table, along with a protein bar and a banana.

_Please leave me a note if you go out again. And please eat something. Anything. -P_

Yuuri looked over at the lump of bedclothes that was Phichit, chest tugging a little with affection for him. No matter what happened, Phichit was there for him. Despite everything—despite the fact that his whole world had collapsed around him in a few short hours—at least he had that.

He got out of bed and dressed in his practice gear, remembering his hat, mask, and gloves this time. Pausing for a moment, he opened the top drawer to his desk, finding his old ipod and headphones and throwing them in the side pocket of his gear bag. He still wasn’t hungry, but it had been a very long time since he’d eaten anything, so he also shoved the protein bar in his pocket.

Grabbing a pen from the desk, he flipped over the sheet of paper.

_I ate the protein bar. I’m going to the rink._

He hesitated, then wrote:

_P.S. I threw my phone in the river. I’ll buy a new one soon._

He put the paper on Phichit’s side table, and silently left the room.

The walk to the rink was bitterly cold, his breath fogging up his glasses. He walked on autopilot, his feet taking him on the path he had walked so many times that he could do it blindfolded. Mindful of Phichit’s pleas, he made himself take a few bites of the protein bar, though the taste of it made him want to gag.

It was three in the morning, so the rink was closed and locked, but luckily, he still had the key from when he’d trained with Celestino. It had never occurred to him to take it off his key ring.

Yuuri used it to let himself in the side door, closing it quietly behind him. He turned on the overhead lights, pausing for a bit with his hand on the switch, before walking slowly over to the rink. He rested his arms on the boards, staring out at the empty ice.

For four years, he’d spent countless hours in this room, pouring out his blood, sweat and tears to chase after a dream. The dream of meeting Victor as a competitor.

He’d once thought of this ice as his home, but he knew better now. Ice was transferrable. The complete freedom of gliding over the smooth surface, eyes closed, body maneuvering fluidly through a routine...he could find that anywhere.

By luck, or by chance, one cold December morning, Victor had danced into his life. It had happened slowly, but eventually, Victor had become his home, more than the ice had ever been. More than the feeling of landing a quad or twirling out of a perfect spin.

Victor’s embrace, the crook of Victor’s neck where Yuuri used to tuck his face in and just breathe. The spot on the couch in St. Petersburg where they could curl around each other and nap in the middle of a lazy afternoon between practices. The way they could carve out beauty on the ice, spinning together in perfect harmony.

 _That_ had been home.

And now it was gone.

Yuuri took a shuddering breath, pressing his palms to his face. 

_Why are you thinking about this? None of it was real. Victor just used you, and now you need to get on with your life. Stop being so pathetic._

Yuuri wiped his eyes and turned away, putting on his skates and tightening them with quick, practiced motions.

After he took off his skate guards and stepped onto the ice, he put in his headphones, setting the old ipod to shuffle. He hadn’t used it in so long that he had no idea what music was on it anymore, but he needed something to quell the chaos in his head. Something to distract him from his memories of Victor’s sleepy eyes first thing in the morning, the way his silver hair used to fan out over the pillows, fingers curling into Yuuri’s chest as he slept…

Yuuri shook his head, gritting his teeth angrily.

He started to warm up, working on his edges, practicing some outside and inside spread eagles.

Once he felt warmed up, he ran through his free skate from the top. He was right in the middle when he actually started listening to the music in his ears; it was an country song Phichit had downloaded for him to “expand his horizons.”

[ _What hurts the most_ ,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcM9ElA1VHk) the singer crooned.

 _Was being so close_  
_And having so much to say_  
_And watching you walk away_

Yuuri felt tears starting to prickle his eyes again, but he was in the middle of a step sequence and he didn’t want to stop to change the song.

 _And never knowing_  
_What could have been_  
_And not seeing that loving you_  
_Is what I was trying to do_

He launched into his quad flip, but it was under-rotated; he went down, landing on his right side, the breath knocked out of him. He panted for a moment, then turned over onto his hands and knees, staring down at the ice, tears dripping down his face.

 _Still harder, getting up, getting dressed_  
_Living with this regret_  
_Though I know if I could do this over_  
_I would trade, give away all the words_  
_That I saved in my heart_  
_That I left unspoken_

He ripped the earbuds out of his ears, wiping his cheeks with a shaking hand.

 _You’re so fucking pathetic,_ said the bitter voice in the back of his head. _Do you think Victor’s crying in the middle of the night over sappy love songs? Get over it already._

Eventually, he got up, sniffing, put his earbuds back in. He clicked to a new song, starting the program over again.

But the next song wasn’t much better, nor the next. Almost everything reminded him of Victor, because almost every song was about love or heartbreak.

After skipping a few songs, he took off the headphones and stuffed them in his pocket.

He gave up on his routine, too. Instead, he just did quad after quad until his legs were shaking and he couldn’t do any more.

As he walked back through the darkness, hat pulled low, mask covering his face, Yuuri avoided eye contact with the few people he passed. The last thing he needed right now was for someone to recognize him, for the paparazzi to show up at his door.

When he got back to their dorm room, Phichit was sitting on his bed, fully clothed. Relief passed over his expression as he stood up, striding quickly over to Yuuri.

“Where were you?”

“Skating. I told you.” Yuuri dropped his gear bag, pulling down his mask.

“I just…” Phichit chewed his lip, then pulled Yuuri into a hug.

“I’m fine, Phich,” Yuuri said, voice muffled.

“No, you’re not,” Phichit said bluntly, squeezing him a little tighter.

Yuuri sighed, hugging him back.

No. He wasn’t fine. He wasn’t fine at all.

Phichit released him, putting his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders.

“You look like you haven’t slept, even though you didn’t leave your bed all day yesterday,” he said. “And you haven’t been eating. This isn’t healthy, Yuuri.”

“I did sleep some, but even when I do, I’m still tired. I…” Yuuri swallowed, looking down at his feet, trying to find the words.

He felt restless. Untethered. Like someone had taken shears and snipped apart all the seams of his life, the things that he thought and been safe and true and _real_ , and now he was unspooled and everyone could see how he was falling apart if they looked too close. He didn’t want anyone to see him; not his family, not the tabloids, not anyone. Not for a long, long time.

“I’m worried about you,” Phichit said, after a long silence. “When you I saw your note that you threw your phone in the river...I just kept thinking about you looking into the water in the dead of night, and I…” he gulped, pressing his lips together, his brow knit.

Yuuri stared at him for a long second, realizing what he was implying. “I’m not going to kill myself, Phichit,” he said slowly, his voice hoarse.

“It’s just...you sleep all day, and disappear in the middle of the night, and sometimes when I talk to you, it’s like you don’t even see or hear me...I’m just worried, okay? I’ve never seen you like this. Ever.”

Yuuri pressed his palm to his forehead. Suddenly, he felt so, _so_ tired. He just wanted to sleep again, sleep for a million years.

“Will it make you feel better if I get a new phone, and call my therapist to make an appointment?”

Phichit pressed his lips together, then nodded, dropping his hands. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m going to shower.” Yuuri toed off his shoes.

“I have practice, I’ll see you later.” Phichit shouldered his bag, pausing with his hand on the door handle. “Please eat something, okay?”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Phichit nodded again and left the room, locking it behind him.

Sighing, Yuuri dragged himself to the shower, taking his time to actually wash his hair, which he hadn’t done in days.

It felt pointless, but if Phichit was _that_ worried...he would try to make a little more of an effort.

After he dried off, he lay on his bed and pulled out his laptop, using Skype to call his cell phone provider and order a new phone. He adamantly refused to keep his old number, insisting that he needed a new one.

Once he hung up, Yuuri looked over at the pill bottle on his side table. He’d already taken several Xanax in the past few days, and he didn’t want to become too dependent on them. So instead, he just lay down again, his thoughts twisting his mind until he could finally drift off, his sleep fitful, nightmares chasing nightmares.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri woke again when Phichit came in the door. Yuuri blinked up at him, the afternoon sunlight coming in through the window, and realized that he hadn’t even put on pyjamas before he’d fallen asleep. He was still on top of the covers in just his towel.

“Hi,” Phichit said, dropping his gear bag by the door and hanging his coat on its hook.

“Hey,” Yuuri croaked, running his fingers through his hair, which was sticking up in all directions.

Phichit frowned, walking over to sit on Yuuri’s bed. “You didn’t eat, did you.”

“Uh.” Yuuri flushed. “I did order a new phone?”

Phichit sighed again, putting a couple of grease-stained paper bags on the bed.

“I brought you some cheeseburgers from Five Guys. I don’t want to hear anything about them being unhealthy. You’ve barely eaten in days, and I’m starting to be able to see your ribs.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, but at Phichit’s stern look, he clicked it shut again.

“Okay,” he said. He got up and pulled on some old pyjama pants before settling on the bed again, crossing his legs. Phichit had already unwrapped a burger and was scarfing it down with gusto.

Yuuri picked up his own burger, looking at it dubiously. Other than katsudon, a greasy takeout cheeseburger was one of his guilty pleasures, but he hardly ever had them because they were so fattening. Phichit was right, though. Other than the protein bar, he had barely eaten for the past few days.

He glanced up at Phichit, who was watching him with his eyebrows raised. Yuuri sighed, unwrapping the foil a bit and taking a bite. It was like ash in his mouth, but he took another bite, and another, until Phichit started eating again, apparently satisfied.

“I told Ciao Ciao you were here, by the way.”

Yuuri’s shoulders hunched. “Oh?”

“He seemed…concerned. But I didn’t tell him why you had come back. I just said you might need a coach again. I think he put two and two together.”

Yuuri sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

“He said he’d be willing to coach you again. If you want,” Phichit went on casually, taking the fries out of his paper bag.

Yuuri felt his jaw tighten. He knew Phichit was just trying to be helpful, but he didn’t really want to be seen by anyone, especially his old rinkmates.

But then, not training at all was basically throwing away everything he’d worked for this entire season. Night practices on his own weren’t going to be enough.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, taking another small bite.

Phichit nodded, stuffing some fries in his mouth.

“Speaking of Ciao Ciao, he is _killing_ me right now,” he said, voice muffled. “He made me do the triple axle and flying sit spin a million times each today. I’m so hungry I could eat ten cheeseburgers.”

“Mmm.”

“Also, Andrea is getting really good, you should see her triple loop. I think she’s going to be ready for Senior division next year.”

“Mmmm.”

“Also, oh my god, you won’t believe this, but Sandy and Violet are dating now. Well, at least they’re hooking up, but I’m not sure if that’s the same thing…”

Yuuri listened to him chatting away, updating Yuuri on the lives of all the people he used to see daily. It all felt so far away, so long ago—like hearing about a former life.

He kept taking small bites, making himself chew carefully and swallow. The burger sat like lead in his stomach.

Everything was starting to feel like a mirage again, like the day in the airport. Like someone else was eating, sitting on his bed with his gossiping friend. Doing normal things.

He stared down at the burger in his hands, aware that Phichit was still talking at him, as everything started to sort of go hazy around the edges.

Phichit’s voice slowly faded into the background,  another voice taking its place.

_“Have you ever been to Five Guys?” Victor asked. He was lying on his stomach, just having showered, his wet hair leaving droplets on his white shirt.  It was late afternoon, the sunlight streaming through the windows of their bedroom._

_“Oh yeah. There’s one sort of near campus, I go there once in a while. Not too often, though. It’s not really good for staying fit.”_

_“Psh,” Victor tsked, flopping onto his back. “I really want a greasy American cheeseburger right now.”_

_“We can go get one at that one place_ — _”_

 _‘“It’s not the_ same, _Yuuri,” Victor wailed, pressing his hands to his face as if this were the end of the world._

_Yuuri straddled his hips, prying his hands away. “You want to fly to the States? I bet we could get a good last minute rate.”_

_Victor pouted. “You joke, but I have done that before.”_

_“You...what?”_

_“I had a hankering for Chinese street food one time, so...I flew to Beijing, on the spur of the moment. Yakov wasn’t pleased, to say the least.”_

_Yuuri stared at him for a long moment. “You can’t be serious.”_

_“Of course I’m serious. And don’t call me Shirley.”_

_Yuuri snorted, rolling his eyes. “You can’t remember how to say normal English words, but you can remember an exact quote from a cheesy seventies American movie?”_

_Victor laughed. “Only movies I’ve seen twenty times.”_

_“Hmmm,” Yuuri hummed skeptically._

_“Point being, sometimes there’s only one thing I want, and I have to have it.”_

_“That doesn’t surprise me whatsoever.”_

_Victor bit his lip, his gaze turning a bit more serious. He reached up and brushed the hair out of Yuuri’s eyes. “Like you. I wanted you, and I got you.”_

_Something tugged in the center of Yuuri’s chest. He cupped Victor’s cheeks, pressing his lips together. Sometimes he loved Victor so much that his entire body felt too small to contain it, and it was too hard to express in words._

_“That would be so much more romantic if you hadn’t just compared me to a cheeseburger,” he said, opting for glib, but it came out a bit too soft, too gentle._

_Victor giggled, his eyes falling closed, the winter sunlight highlighting his icy eyelashes. Yuuri couldn’t help but lean down to kiss him, to sip the laughter from his lips._

_Victor kissed him back for a while, hands sliding up Yuuri’s back, then just pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s, smiling softly, radiant._

_They were in a cocoon of happiness, just the two of them, and Yuuri felt safe, and loved. And happy._

_“I love you,” Yuuri whispered, his fingers tangled in Victor’s silky hair._

_“I love you too,” Victor whispered back, tipping his chin upward to seal their lips together again._

“Yuuri? Yuuri?” Phichit’s voice sounded far away.

Yuuri blinked, trying to refocus, but it was like coming out of a dream too fast. It took him a bit to actually focus on Phichit’s face.

“I...w—what?” Yuuri stuttered.

“You...you kind of went off for a second there.” Phichit hesitated for a moment, concern knitting his brow into hard lines.

Yuuri stared at him blankly. “I did?"

“You didn’t speak or a long time, and when I turned to look at you, you were staring at your cheeseburger and crying, and I couldn’t get you to look at me.”

Yuuri blinked at him again, and then dropped the cheeseburger on the paper bag. He pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to erase the images of Victor doused in sunlight, his shining hair spread out in a halo underneath him, but it was like they were burned into his sense memory.

“What were you thinking about?”

Yuuri groaned, low in his throat.

“Oh,” Phichit said. “Him.”

Yuuri dropped his hands, looking down at his lap, but everything still had a slightly surreal feeling to it, like he’d just woken up from a nightmare.

Phichit frowned, watching him contemplatively. “Do you...want to talk about it?”

Yuuri bit his lip. No, he didn’t want to talk about it, because it made everything more real, more visceral. The pain was too much. But at the same time, he couldn’t hold it all in anymore, because it was breaking him from the inside, bit by bit.

“I keep going over and over it in my mind,” Yuuri croaked, eventually. “How I could have missed it.”

Phichit’s eyes widened in surprise. 

Yuuri inhaled, blinking back tears, looking up at the ceiling. “He…I really felt like...I thought he loved me. I don’t know how anyone...could fake...the way he acted…”

He let out a sob, and Phichit moved closer, sliding an arm around him. Yuuri all but collapsed into him, pressing his face into Phichit’s chest. Phichit was silent, just holding him, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“He really said he never loved you?” Phichit asked gently.

Hearing it said out loud was like taking an ice pick to the chest.

Yuuri choked out a sob. “Yeah. He...he did. I didn’t believe it, at first. It almost looked like...he had to force himself to say it. He was crying.”

“He was _crying_?” Phichit asked slowly.

“When I told him we should end it. Which made no sense. I…” Yuuri trailed off, hiccuping.

Phichit paused for a few seconds, then cleared his throat. “I need to tell you something,” he said.

“What?” Yuuri sniffled, sitting back. Phichit's lips were thin, and he had a slightly guilty expression.

“What is it?” Yuuri prompted again.

“Victor kind of...texted me. And called me. A few times since Taipei.”

A wave of nausea started to overcome Yuuri again, and he wished he couldn’t smell the cheeseburgers and fries.

“But I didn’t answer!” Phichit said immediately. “I just...thought you should know that he’s still trying to contact you, through any means. He must have figured I was with you, somehow—”

“He saw me boarding the plane to Detroit,” Yuuri interrupted.

Phichit’s brow creased. “How...”

“He was running down the terminal towards us as we got on the plane.”

“Why? Why would he do that if he just broke up with you?”

“I don’t know.”

Phichit wrung his hands. “Yuuri, I know this might be hard for you to hear, but...maybe you should hear him out.”

Yuuri crossed his arms, sitting back further. “Are you serious?”

“I—”

“What could he possibly say to make this okay?” Yuuri snapped. “He told me to my face that he didn’t love me. Maybe he felt guilty after. Maybe he felt like I tarnished his reputation as a coach, maybe he wants my share of the Nike money. Maybe he—”

“Maybe he realizes that he made a mistake,” Phichit interrupted, stony-faced.

Yuuri shook his head, looking down. That was the one thing he wouldn’t let himself even dream of.

“No,” he said. He picked up the barely-eaten cheeseburger and wrapped it up, then walked over to stuff it in their mini fridge. He got back in bed, under the covers this time, his back to Phichit.

“Yuuri—” Phichit began.

“I’m tired, Phich. I’m going back to sleep.”

Phichit sighed, but left him alone. Yuuri heard him puttering around, brushing his teeth, getting a glass of water. Normal things that people did when they were getting ready for bed.

The vision of Victor on that sunny afternoon haunted him, long after Phichit had turned off the light and gotten into bed. The feeling of Victor’s lips sliding against his own, the sound of Victor’s laugh in the comfortable silence.

He clenched his fist in the bedclothes, wishing he could forget it. All of it.

 

 

* * *

A week or so went by in much the same way. Yuuri slept all day and only left the room at night. Phichit very carefully didn’t mention Victor, and Yuuri never brought him up.

He dreamed of Victor almost every night, sometimes waking up in the middle of a nightmare with tears drying on his cheeks.

Whenever that happened, he would get up and dress quietly, walking through the darkness to the rink. He'd skate his legs out until he could barely stand, then trudge back to the dorm to sleep again.

Somehow, the paparazzi still hadn’t found him. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

His new phone arrived, and he only gave the number to his mother, Minako, Mari and Phichit.

His mother cried when he finally called to tell her the rumors were true, that he and Victor had broken up. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her why.

Days flowed one into the other, and he still felt like half a person. He didn’t want to see or talk to anyone other than Phichit. It was hard to get out of bed at all.

But he knew that if he just gave up on Worlds, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

 

 

* * *

Ten days after Taipei, he set his alarm for 6 am, and didn’t get up in the middle of the night to skate.

He woke up as Phichit was putting on his gym shoes. “Morning, Bambi!”

Yuuri groaned, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Phichit always had been an unnaturally chipper morning person. Sighing, Yuuri got out of bed and shuffled over to their electric kettle, putting it on for tea.

“Want some?” he asked.

“Sure. I gotta get going soon, though.” Phichit stood, zipping up his sweatshirt.

“I’m coming with.” Yuuri rubbed his bleary eyes, taking some tea and travel mugs out of the cabinet.

Phichit looked surprised for a second, then he schooled his face into a placid expression. “Cool,” he said offhandedly, as if this were an everyday occurrance.

Once the tea was made, Yuuri put on his mask and hat, grabbing his gear bag. Before they left, he took a deep breath, bracing himself to leave the dorm room in daylight for the first time in a week.

As they walked outside, he hunched his shoulders, avoiding eye contact. During his second year at school, a bronchial infection mixed with some kind of virus had left him bedridden for a full week. When he’d reemerged into the world, it was like he had forgotten how to interact with humans.

This was ten times worse than that.

Phichit waved to a few people as they passed; it was still pretty early, but some students were already heading to various sport practices or to their part time jobs. A couple of people looked at Yuuri curiously, but they said nothing.

When they finally got to the rink, Yuuri paused outside for a moment, his chest starting to tighten again, heart rate accelerating.

For the first time since... _it_ happened...he had to face people who knew him from before. Most of them probably knew that Victor had dumped him, and at the very least, had seen him fail miserably at Four Continents.

When most people had a breakup, it wasn’t splashed all over the tabloids. It wasn’t something that was picked apart, bit by bit, by the entire world. 

Standing outside the rink, it felt like preparing to rip his chest apart and let everyone see how broken he was inside.

Phichit walked back to him, touching his hand gently. “Yuuri?”

Yuuri closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Sorry, just needed a second.”

Phichit took his hand and squeezed it. “Take all the time you need.”

They stood there until Yuuri felt his heart slow down a little, then he took a deep breath, and made his way inside.

The second they walked into the rink, every single skater stopped chattering and stared at them, some of their eyes widening.

“What?” Phichit asked, dropping Yuuri’s hand. “Is there something on my face?”

Surprised, Yuuri snorted out a laugh. A couple of people giggled, but most just kept staring, or whispered to each other behind their hands.

Yuuri held his chin high and marched past them to a far bench.

Sandra, a chattery nineteen-year-old, reached for her phone discreetly and started tapping away on it as he passed. A couple of others did the same.

Yuuri sighed, putting his gear bag down and starting to unlace his sneakers. It was inevitable, now, that the paparazzi would find him. 

He just had to keep his head down and skate. That was all he had left. 

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri looked up. Celestino was directly in front of him, watching him with an inscrutable expression.

“Uh, hi.”

Celestino pressed his lips together. “We should talk. Come with me.”

Yuuri gulped, glancing over at Phichit, who nodded encouragingly.

“Okay,” Yuuri agreed, standing up.

Celestino led him to a rarely-used office on the side of the rink, shutting the door behind them.

“I’m really sorry—” Yuuri started.

Celestino held up a hand to stop him. “Please,” he said, motioning to a chair. “Sit.”

Yuuri nodded, his heart hammering in his chest. Celestino sat down next to him and folded his hands in his lap.

Wrapping his arms around his torso, Yuuri looked at his feet, bracing himself to be yelled at for leaving his coach in the middle of the season; for his horrific performance at Four Continents; for showing up again unannounced, disgraced and—

“Are you alright, Yuuri?” Celestino asked gently.

Yuuri’s head snapped up, meeting his gaze; there was nothing in Celestino’s expression but warmth and concern.

Tears pricked his eyes almost immediately. Yuuri blinked, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to get himself under control.

“I’m fine,” he said. It would have been more convincing if his voice hadn’t wobbled so much when he said it.

“I’m assuming you’re not...training with Victor anymore.”

“No. He...I’m not with him anymore. At all,” Yuuri said. He looked down at his ring finger, rubbing the slightly lighter skin where the soft metal used to be.

_Keep it together, Katsuki. Keep. It. Together. He won’t agree to train you again if he thinks you’re going to have a mental breakdown._

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Celestino said, after a pause.

Yuuri choked out a laugh. “Me too.”

A couple of seconds ticked by. “Do you still want to compete at Worlds?” Celestino asked.

“Yes, I...um. Yes. Can…can I come back here? To train?”

Celestino’s brow furrowed. “Of course, Yuuri. You were always welcome back here. I thought you knew that.”

Yuuri nodded, looking down at his hands again. _I don’t feel welcome anywhere anymore._

“I know this isn’t something you want to talk about, but...Phichit has been worried about you. Have you seen your therapist since you got back?” Celestino asked.

Yuuri winced. He’d been meaning to set up an appointment, but he hadn’t yet. He’d forgotten that Celestino knew about his mental health issues; in fact, he was the first one to suggest that Yuuri go to therapy when he was a freshman. _Sound mind means sound body_ , he’d said all those years ago.

“Not yet, but I will,” Yuuri said. “I promise.”

Celestino nodded, still watching him carefully. “You changed your short program with Victor. Do you want to stick with that one for Worlds?”

“I think I have to.” He had been avoiding the Eros routine since he’d returned, since it reminded him too much of Victor. But changing back to his old one again at this point would be foolhardy.

“I want to see you run through it, see what we need to work on. There’s not much time until Worlds.” Celestino stood up, and Yuuri stood too, immediately reaching out to hug him.

Celestino made a little noise of surprise, but he patted Yuuri on the back. They had never hugged before, at least not that Yuuri could remember, but he couldn’t find any other way to express how grateful he was. Celestino’s willingness to take him back after being so unceremoniously dumped back in December was far more than he’d expected.

More than that, Celestino still cared about him, cared about his well-being. It was such a small thing, really, but...he’d felt so alone since Taipei. So unloved, unwanted.

When they parted, Yuuri sniffed. Celestino patted his shoulder once more, leading him back out of the office.

“How was it?” Phichit asked when he got back over to the bench.

“He was really understanding. More than I thought he’d be.” Yuuri toed off his shoes and started pulling on his skates.

“See? Told ya.” Phichit grinned, clapping him on the back, before walking over to the boards.

Once his skates were tightened, Yuuri sighed, looking out at the ice. For some reason, it felt like he was starting all over again.

 

 

* * *

As Yuuri had feared, paparazzi were standing ten deep outside the doors when they were done with practice.

Yuuri sighed, tugging his hat down around his ears a bit more.

“Ugh, how did they find you?” Phichit grumbled.

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long. Someone must have tweeted that I was back,” Yuuri said dully. It had been inevitable, really. He was prepared for it. Still, the last thing he wanted was to be photographed right now.

“Want to go out the back?"

Yuuri shook his head. “Might as well get it over with. You can go that way, though. I don’t mind.”

Phichit snorted. “As if I’d let you take all the limelight yourself.” He grinned, shouldering his gear bag. “Ready?”

“I guess I’ll have to be.”

As they shouldered through the doors, they were immediately assailed by the flash of dozens of light bulbs. Reporters started hurling questions at him, all at the same time.

“Yuuri, did you break up with Victor? Or did he dump you?”

“Did Victor cheat on you?”

“Do you know who the mystery man was?”

“Yuuri, are you and Phichit together now?”

“Are you still planning on skating at Worlds? Is Celestino your coach again?”

“Yuuri, was your marriage a publicity stunt?”

Yuuri said nothing, clenching his jaw and shouldering through them, walking as quickly as he could. Several of the paparazzi followed them all the way back to the dorm.

When they finally got back to their room, and Yuuri shut their door with a thud, leaning against it.

“I’ll _never_ get used to that,” Phichit said, flopping onto the bed.

Yuuri chewed his lip, looking down at his feet. Phichit hadn’t signed up for this, and as long as he was associated with Yuuri, he was going to get the brunt of it.

“I should start looking for a new apartment,” Yuuri said, taking off his hat.

Phichit shot back up, hurt crossing over his eyes. “Wait, what? Why?” 

Yuuri stepped forward, sitting down next to him.

“I just feel like it’s not fair to you. As long as I live with you, they’re going to go after you too.”

Phichit’s face relaxed, and he took Yuuri’s hands. “I want you to listen to me very carefully. I’m in this for the long haul, okay? Don’t push me away too. Just...don’t. I can handle some dumbass reporters shouting things at me, okay?”

Yuuri pressed his lips together, looking down at their hands, tears filling his eyes for the second time that day. “Thanks, Phich. For everything.”

Phichit smiled. “Don’t need to thank me, but you’re welcome, kid. Now, want to watch a dumb movie? I’ll order pizza.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, and Phichit rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, _with_ salad.”

They cuddled into Phichit’s narrow bed, Yuuri tucked into Phichit’s side, and watched a movie with a lot of explosions and fancy cars and beautiful people, eating pizza out of the box.

Yuuri barely paid attention, but Phichit laughed at the one-liners, chattering away about this actor or that one, his fingers in Yuuri’s hair, stroking his scalp soothingly. It was like he somehow knew what Yuuri needed right then.

He’d barely touched another human in the ten days since he’d been back. Victor used to touch him all the time—casually brushing Yuuri's waist as they cooked in the kitchen, holding his hand walking down the street, wrapping his long limbs around Yuuri as they slept. Phichit hugged him once in a while, but for the most part, their schedules had been opposite.

It was strange to realize it, but Yuuri had gotten used to being touched constantly, and now...it was a void that would never be refilled.

At one point, Yuuri turned his face into Phichit’s chest. Phichit said nothing about the tears soaking his shirt, just kept stroking Yuuri’s hair.

 _I can’t do this on my own_ , Yuuri thought. _I can’t fight this battle by myself_. Phichit was there for him, of course, and his family was too. But that wasn’t going to be enough. Not for something like this.

After the movie, Yuuri blew his nose and picked up his phone. He dialed a number he hadn’t called in a long, long time.

“Hello,” the soothing voice said immediately after picking up.

“Hi, Kayla. This is Yuuri, I have a new number. Can I…can I come see you soon?” Yuuri asked, his voice wobbling. “I’m back in Detroit.”

She paused, turning pages in the background. “How about tomorrow?”

 

 

 

* * *

There was a little terrarium directly opposite the 50s-style leather seats in the waiting room. The last time Yuuri had been here, the cacti had just been planted, but now they had grown almost all the way to the top of the glass.

The oak door opened and a young woman with purple hair walked out, nodding politely at Yuuri as she left the room.

Kayla came out a couple of minutes later, dressed in slim dark blue pants and a pink blouse. “Hi Yuuri. Come on in,” she said, smiling at him.

Standing up, Yuuri wiped his palms on his pants and walked past her into the small, sunny room. There was a comfy couch on one side and Kayla’s more modern leather chair on the other.

As she shut the door, Yuuri sat down on the couch. Several squishy pillows were thrown haphazardly onto it, and Yuuri grabbed one, clutching it to his stomach.

Kayla crossed over to her chair, picking up a notepad from her desk as she went.

“How are you doing? It’s been a while, even since we Skyped.” She sat down, clicking her pen.

“I’m f—” Yuuri started to say. Kayla didn’t react, just watched him with a neutral expression.

He couldn’t lie. Not to her.

He _shouldn’t._

Yuuri pressed his lips together, looking out the window at the icy world outside, listening to the trickling water from the little fountain in the corner.

Kayla waited patiently for him to speak. That was one thing he’d always liked about her; she knew it sometimes took him a minute to order his thoughts, and she didn’t fill the silence.

“I’m really not doing well,” Yuuri said, finally. “I…” he swallowed.

She nodded, waiting. She had to know what he was about to say, unless she lived under a rock. Yuuri had very deliberately not looked at Twitter yet, but that morning he’d seen a couple of magazines in the corner store, completely by accident. There were photos of himself and Victor on the cover with one of those dramatic “SPLIT?” headlines. He’d abandoned his gatorade and left the store quickly.

“Victor and I broke up.”

She didn’t react, her expression remaining neutral. “I see. What happened?”

“I..." Yuuri gulped, looking out the window. “He told me, right before Four Continents, that he had cheated on me. And that he never loved me. And then I totally fucked up my free skate and came in fifth. It was a great day all around,” he laughed bitterly.

“Oh Yuuri, I’m so sorry.” Kayla put her pad to the side, uncrossing her legs and clasping her hands on her knees. “When he said all of those things to you...how did you feel?”

“I didn’t believe him, at first. I guess I was in denial, because, he...I really thought he loved me, you know?” Yuuri choked out, meeting her gaze again. “I feel like this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have been so stupid.”

“It’s not your fault, Yuuri. Those unkind thoughts are just your anxiety talking.”

“I know, I just.” He choked off a sob. “I don’t know how it all went so wrong. How _I_ was so wrong. About him.”

Kayla nodded. “You loved him. You wanted to see the best in him.”

“I did, Kayla. God, I...I loved him more than I thought it was possible to love someone. I don’t...I don’t know how to _do_ this. I couldn’t get out of bed for days, I don’t want to talk to anyone or see anyone, it…I barely could make myself go to practice yesterday. It was so hard to even come here.” He sniffed, taking a tissue from the table in front of him to wipe away his tears.

“I’m glad you did come, Yuuri.”

“I know, I should have come sooner.”

She shook her head. “You’re here now.”

Yuuri sniffled again, both of them falling silent again for a while.

“When...does it stop...hurting like this?” he asked finally, between shuddering breaths.

Kayla pressed her lips together. “Unfortunately, grief comes in waves, Yuuri. At first, the waves are closer together, so close that it feels nearly continuous, but then they start to space out more. Even then, sometimes, something will trigger it, and the grief will come flooding back. It might be something seemingly innocuous, but it will put you back in the place you were when it first happened.”

 _Grief_. Yuuri picked at a loose thread on the pillow. Grief was what happened when someone died. No one had died here.

But he had lost someone. He’d lost _so much._

“You’re thinking it only happens when someone dies,” Kayla said.

Yuuri made a noise of agreement in his throat.

“Grief can happen for any number of reasons. It sounds like this was a particularly traumatic loss for you.”

Tears started to prickle his eyes again as Yuuri nodded. “Yeah. Yeah it...it was.”

“I want you to be kind to yourself. Take care of you, for a while. I know it’s hard to do when you’re in pain, and when your anxiety tells you that it was your fault, or that you could have changed things, but try, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

He’d always taken care of himself, before. Sure, he had his parents, Phichit, and Celestino, but for the most part...he’d fought his battles alone.

But for a brief time, there had been someone else who had watched out for him, someone who had made sure of his well being from day to day. It was strange, now, to feel like an island after being bound to another person that deeply, even for just a few short months.

“What are you thinking right now?” Kayla prompted gently.

“I...miss him,” Yuuri said slowly. “I miss him _so much_. I haven’t said that out loud yet, but...it’s like...it feels like someone cut out a part of me. One of the deepest, most important parts. Even though he did something so horrible, I...I still love him, I think. I don’t know if that’s going to go away.”

“It might not. Just because you break up with someone, whatever the reason, doesn’t mean the love goes away. What you felt was real, Yuuri, even if it turned out to be one-sided.”

Yuuri sniffled again, wiping away his tears. “I just still can’t believe it was all fake. That’s the hardest part for me to believe.”

Kayla held his gaze, her dark eyes soft. “Time heals a lot, Yuuri. Eventually, this will pass. You’ll feel more and more like your normal self again.”

Yuuri nodded, looking down at the pillow. He couldn’t imagine ever feeling normal again.

 

 

* * *

When Yuuri got back to the dorm, Phichit was sitting on the bed, wringing his hands nervously.

“What?” Yuuri asked, dumping his bag on the ground.

“I. Uh.” Phichit pressed his lips together.

“Out with it.”

“I went to get our mail, and uh. There’s a letter for you. It’s on your bed.”

Yuuri frowned; he hardly ever got actual letters from anyone.

“Who from?” he asked, walking over.

“Just...look at it."

Yuuri picked up the letter, his name and address on the front in a familiar looping script.

Hands shaking, he turned it over to look at the return address on the back, and—

It was from Victor.

“The _fuck_ ,” Yuuri whispered.

He stared at the letter for a moment, his heart pounding, before he threw it down on the bed.

“Get rid of it,” he said, grabbing his towel and starting to walk toward the bathroom.

“Yuuri—” Phichit stood up, walking over to him.

“I said, _get rid of it_ ,” Yuuri snapped.

“Yuuri, please just listen to me. I know you’ve been avoiding Twitter and all, but I think Victor might still love you,” Phichit said really fast.

Yuuri froze, turning to look at him.

“How can you say that to me?” he demanded. “I’m—I’m barely holding it together, Phich.”

“I know, I know you are...it’s just...it looks like...he might be barely holding it together, too.”

Yuuri paused for a second, but Phichit tilted his chin upward, and didn't back down.

“There’s a reason why I haven’t been looking online, Phich,” Yuuri said slowly. “I’m trying to keep what little sanity I have left.”

“Can’t you just read it? Just to see what he says?” Phichit pleaded.

“I _can’t_. Just...just drop it, okay?” Yuuri strode to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with an air of finality.

He turned on the shower and sat on the toilet for a long time, his head in his hands. Why? Why would Victor keep trying to contact him? It made no sense.

After a long time, he stood, wiping his eyes, and started stripping out of his clothes.

When he reemerged from the bathroom, Phichit and the letter were both gone.

Yuuri chewed his bottom lip, glancing around the empty room.

Bowing to temptation, he picked up his laptop and went to sit on the bed.

He clicked on the web browser and opened Twitter, typing in #victornikiforov.

Dozens of tweets and photos came up immediately.

 

 **@victornews** Victor heads to practice after week-long hiatus

There was a picture of Victor, skin grey and wan, dark circles under his eyes, as he walked into the practice rink in St. Petersburg. Yuuri stared at the picture for a long time, spears of pain spiking down his throat.

He scrolled down, looking at earlier tweets from the same source, going backward in time.

 **@victornews** Yuuri and Phichit seen leaving practice, walking to Wayne State dorm together. Are they roomies again? [photo]

 **@victornews** Yuuri finally spotted! He’s in Detroit, and he’s not wearing his ring [photo]

 **@victornews** Victor seen coming off plane in Moscow airport [photo]

 **@victornews** Still no official statement from Victor on the mystery hottie he was caught kissing [link]

 **@victornews** Solo Victor returns to St. Petersburg. [photo] Where in the world is Yuuri Katsuki?

 **@victornews** Yuuri disappears after disastrous Four Continents performance, Victor nowhere to be seen [link]

 

Yuuri scrolled further down, a lump forming in his throat as he clicked a link to the article, dated two days after he’d flown back to Detroit.

 

**KATSUKI FLOPS, NIKIFOROV RETURNS TO RUSSIA ALONE**

_Yuuri Katsuki put up the highest score in the FCC short program, but it was followed by a disastrous free skate, landing him in fifth place. Patrick Chan of Canada took the top spot in the competition._

_Even more shocking than this result was the fact that Katsuki's coach and husband, Victor Nikiforov, was nowhere to be seen...including when Katsuki waited at the kiss and cry to receive his score._

_[photo of Yuuri at kiss and cry, looking like he was holding back tears]_

_There are unconfirmed reports that Katsuki boarded a plane to the United States with Phichit Chulanont the next day, but no photographic evidence has yet been produced._

_Chulanont has since been seen in Detroit going to and from practice, but Katsuki has not been spotted._

_Nikiforov arrived in St. Petersburg the day after the FCC ended, looking like hell. [photo of Victor at the St. Petersburg airport, sunglasses on, lips thin and skin pale]_

_What happened between these two? We can only guess. But it probably has something to do with the **photos of Victor kissing the mystery hottie**. _

_Log on to **Twitter** and share your thoughts!_

 

 **@Vityaluvrrr** Welp, looks like it’s happened. Sayonara Katsuki. [link]

                 Reply from **@nikiforovas**  
                 pretty surprised Vitya hasn’t even tried to deny kissing that dude

                 Reply from **@sayittonya**  
                 man, this sucks  >.< They were such #relationshipgoals

                 Reply from **@nikiforovas**  
                 Yuuri could just be lying low because of his FCC free skate. He really biffed it

                 Reply from **@Vityaluvrr**  
                 hmmm idk, I mean did you see his face as he got to the ice for the FS? Looked like he and Victor just broke up to me

                 Reply from **@behindthecurtain**  
                 Nothing is what it seems. I mean, Victor is heartbroken. You can see it in his eyes

 **Reply from @Vityaluvrrr**  
                 Eh. Actions speak louder than words. Victor hasn’t even released a statement. It’s OVER. Find a new show!

 

Yuuri felt tears sliding down his cheeks, and he snapped his laptop shut. He turned over, letting himself cry silently, tears sliding down onto the pillow, cursing himself for even bothering to look at any of it.

He lay there for hours, unable to sleep, the image of Victor’s wan face haunting him.

 

 

* * *

A winter storm blew through for the next two days, carpeting the city in snow.

Yuuri still had to fight through paparazzi to the rink, but they were starting to thin out a little, probably because all he did was go to practice and then go home. It wasn’t exactly very interesting.

After practice one afternoon, Phichit had a late class, so Yuuri went back to the dorm alone to change and head out for a run.

His thoughts were on his free skate—he’d been talking to Celestino about upping the difficulty of the jumps in the second half—when he turned around the corner to their hallway, and froze.

Inessa Nikiforov was standing in front of his door.

“Hello, Yuuri,” she said, taking off her sunglasses.

Yuuri just stood there, staring at her for a moment.

_I’m not ready. I’m not ready to see him. No, I can’t..._

“Is...is Victor…” he gulped, his eyes darting around. “He’s not... _here,_ is he?”

She took a step forward. “No, no, he’s not here. It’s just me. Can we talk?”

Yuuri pressed his lips together, hesitating.

After a moment, he walked past her and unlocked his door, leaving it open behind him.

She followed him in, closing the door and looking around. Seeing her here, in his small, slightly messy room, was entirely surreal, out of context.

He gestured to a desk chair. “Please have a seat,” he said tightly, sitting down on his bed, heart pounding.

She walked over slowly and sat down, removing her colorful scarf, revealing her silvery hair—the same hair as Victor’s. Seeing it was like slicing a wound open anew, painfully sharp.

Yuuri crossed his arms, curling inward on himself, trying to keep it together, at least while she was there.

“What do you want?” he asked bluntly. 

Hurt passed over Inessa’s eyes, and Yuuri felt a blunt punch of guilt at the sight. At one time, he’d thought of her as someone he could rely on, someone he could one day love as a second mother. But no more.

“Victor came to see me,” Inessa said. “After Taipei.”

Yuuri’s stomach churned. “Okay,” he said slowly.

She swallowed, looking down at her clasped hands. “He was...he _is_...completely heartbroken.”

Yuuri blinked at her for a moment, waiting for her to pull the other one, but...she seemed completely sincere.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “ _He’s_ heartbroken? That’s a good one,” he said bitterly.

Inessa frowned, seemingly put off-kilter by the statement.

“What happened between you?” she asked after a moment. “He won’t tell me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Yuuri got up, walking over to his fridge and opening it. “Want some water? Tea?”

Inessa paused. “Water would be lovely, thank you.”

He grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, handing her one.

“Thank you.” She took it, unscrewing the top and having a sip.

Yuuri nodded, sitting down again.

Inessa placed her bottle on the desk, clasping her hands together on her lap again.

“I know that there have been rumors that Victor was...unfaithful. I was able to get that out of him. But you must know, Yuuri, you _have_ to know it’s not true. He loves you more than anything.”

Yuuri felt his jaw clench. “Did he send you here to do this? Is this part of his twisted game?”

“ _Twisted—_ ” She shook her head. “No, Yuuri, I came on my own.”

Yuuri huffed disbelievingly. “Sure.”

Inessa’s mouth went taut. “You don’t actually believe the rumors, do you?”  she pressed.

Crossing his arms again, Yuuri blinked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from falling yet again. “Inessa, just… leave me be.”

“I can’t imagine how hard this all is for you, being thrust into the spotlight, having people speculate about your relationship, but Yuuri, you have to understand, he’s been through a lot—”

That was the last straw; he couldn’t take it anymore. “ _He_ broke up with _me_ , did he not tell you that?” Yuuri snapped.

Inessa gasped, her hands curling into her skirt. “I...what?”

“After the photos were posted of him kissing some guy, he told me it was true, and that he slept with whoever it was. I told him I’d still stay with him, that I loved him, but he told me…” he stopped, choking out a sob, wrapping his arms around himself more tightly. “He told me there was no point. He told me that he didn’t love me, and that he never did.”

Inessa stared at him for a long moment. “That makes no sense,” she muttered. “I don’t believe it.”

“That’s what I said, too, at first. But he was _very_ convincing.” A couple of tears escaped, rolling down his cheeks. He wiped them away angrily.

He’d tried so hard not to think about this for the past couple of weeks, and now the memories were flooding back, one by one.

The desperation in Victor’s voice when he’d said, _fuck me like it’s our last night together._

The tightness around his mouth as he’d said, _I don’t love you._

The panic in his eyes as he'd run down the terminal, calling Yuuri’s name…

Yuuri shuddered.

Inessa stood up, stepping toward him. “I know he loves you, Yuuri. He does. I’ve never seen him so in love before. It was like he came alive when he met you.”

Yuuri winced, turning away from her. It was like taking a physical blow.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered.

Inessa touched his arm gently. He looked up to see tears glistening in her eyes, one of them rolling down her cheek. It was strange; he’d never seen her cry before. She had always seemed so completely in control, utterly confident. Like Victor had been when he’d first met him.

“Yuuri. Please, just. _Talk_ to him. I know you changed your number, you’re ignoring all his attempts to contact you—”

He shook his head, standing up and twisting out of her reach.

“I don’t know what’s going on with Victor, but he made it _very_ clear that he doesn’t want to be with me. So. Just let me...let me move on, okay?” his voice cracked on the last word.

She brushed the tear away with an elegant finger, looking down at the ground for a moment. “Okay, Yuuri. I’ll leave. But can I just ask you one more thing?”

Yuuri pressed his lips together, then nodded.

“Can you show me the photo of Victor kissing the other man?”

Yuuri stared at her for a moment, then he crossed over to his desk and grabbed his laptop, opening a web browser. It was relatively easy to find; he turned the screen around and showed it to her.

Inessa looked at the blurry photo, squinting, and then her eyes widened. Her intense gaze shifted to Yuuri for a moment, and then she started putting her scarf back on.

“I’ll leave you alone now,” Inessa said, sliding on her sunglasses. “Just...for me, take care of yourself, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Yuuri said, snapping his computer shut and throwing it down on the mattress.

She paused for a moment, then walked to the door, closing it behind her with a click.

Yuuri flopped onto the bed, exhausted from the exchange. He knew he should go for his run, but he couldn’t seem to find the will to move.

When Phichit came back, Yuuri was still lying there. Phichit didn’t say a word; he simply walked over and climbed into bed behind Yuuri, holding him close.

“Want to talk about it?” Phichit asked, after several minutes.

He had no idea, of course, what had happened, or that Inessa had been there.

“Not right now,” Yuuri mumbled.

“Okay,” Phichit pressed his cheek to Yuuri’s back. “I’m here.”

 

 

* * *

Yuuri awoke in the early morning, sunlight shining directly into his face. They must have forgotten to pull the shades.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes. It was their morning off, so he could close the blinds and go back to sleep, but he felt wide awake.

Sighing, he got up and dressed silently, filling up a big water bottle. He left a note for Phichit on his side table and headed out into the early dawn.

The sun was starting to slant through the windows of the rink as he put on his skates and warmed up.

Once he was ready, Yuuri scrolled through the music on his phone, pausing on a particular song.

It was a sort of masochism to even consider it, wasn’t it?

He chewed his lip. Maybe it would help him start to move on... _truly_ move on.

Skate his final goodbye.

Start to let go.

Putting his headphones in, he skated over to one side of the rink and pressed play.

[As the opening instrumental notes began](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FV7KqBLCekk)[,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FV7KqBLCekk) Yuuri started to skate toward the outside of the rink in lazy arcs, relaxing his axis, his eyes closed as he went through the turns.

 _Never knew I could feel like this_  
_Like I’ve never seen the sky before_

Once he reached the boards, he twirled around to face the center, his movements speeding up; doing an inner spread eagle followed directly by an outer spread eagle.

 _Want to vanish inside your kiss_  
_Every day I love you more and more_

Yuuri spun around the center, his eyes trained on the spot where Victor would have been. As he curled and bent his body, gliding over the ice, his eyes started to prick with tears, but he didn’t stop.

 _Listen to my heart_  
_Can you hear it sing?_  
_Telling me to give you everything_

His circle tightened until he was at center ice, his heart clenching at the moment they would have embraced, before Victor lifted him into the short layback lift.

 _Seasons may change winter to spring_  
_But I love you_  
_Until the end of time_

Yuuri paused in the moment where his feet would have touched the ice again, his face close to Victor’s. Then he launched into their first step sequence.

 _Come what may_  
_Come what may_

He spun on one foot, doing a few twizzles one direction, then the other, before he pretended to reach out and catch Victor, pulling him close.

 _I will love you_  
_Until my dying day_

He turned around, skating backward, his arms circled around air as he began the waltz portion, flying over the ice.

 _Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place_  
_Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace_  
_Suddenly my life doesn’t seem such a waste_  
_It all revolves around you_

He dropped his arms and gained speed, launching into the quad toe loop, landing it cleanly.

 _And there’s no mountain too high_  
_No river too wide_

This part would have been the star lift, but instead Yuuri modified it into a standing split, gritting his teeth.

 _Sing out this song and I’ll be there_  
_By your side_

 _Storm clouds may gather_  
_And storms may collide_

He put his foot down, mimicking the brush of his hand against Victor’s face, twirling in a tight circle. A tear slid down his own cheek.

 _But I love you_  
_Until the end of time_

He launched into another brief step sequence, during which he would have had Victor’s arm around his waist.

 _Come what may_  
_Come what may_

Yuuri did a spread eagle, simulating a lift in which he would have held Victor aloft, his feet on Yuuri’s thighs, bending back into a layback.

 _I will love you_  
_Until my dying day_

He mimicked putting Victor down, then started a camel spin, holding his arms out as if he were holding Victor as he spun.

 _Oh come what may_  
_Come what may_  
_I will love you_

He twirled out of the spin, standing up, sliding his hands around phantom-Victor’s waist.

_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place_

The music picked up again, and he tried to smile widely, as he would have done in the exhibition skate, dancing over the ice in tight spins, Victor in his arms the whole time.

 _Come what may_  
_Come what may_  
_I will love you until my dying day_

He froze in the final pose, in what would have been a tight clasp with Victor, but instead he was only holding air.

Yuuri pulled out his earbuds, pressing his hands to his face, sobs racking his chest once more.

After a long time, his tears started to slow, and he dropped his hands, wiping his cheeks. He skated over to the floor-to-ceiling windows on one side of the rink. He rested his gloved hands on the boards, trying to control his breathing, looking out at the grey dawn.

Skating that routine had been harder than he could have imagined. He’d had to skate around the hole in his heart where Victor had once been.

The thing was, he didn’t actually feel better, having done it.

Inessa‘s voice came to him, unbidden. _I know he loves you, Yuuri. He does. I’ve never seen him so in love before. It was like he came alive when he met you._

Yuuri winced. She loved Victor unconditionally, and Yuuri hadn’t had the heart, at first, to tell her what Victor had done. 

But maybe she’d been lying when she said that Victor was heartbroken, that she didn’t know why they’d broken up. If that was the case, it had been cruel of her to come and beg on Victor’s behalf.

_But what motive would she have had to lie?_

Then, when she’d seen the photo...it was almost as if she'd recognized the man Victor kissed. Maybe she did.

Maybe Inessa had been telling the truth, and she really had come to see Yuuri in good faith, because she was worried about her son.

No. Yuuri shook his head, wiping another tear away angrily. He couldn’t let himself wish that things were different, that Victor would someday want him back. It wasn’t healthy. He had to let it go, move on.

_I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep wondering. I can’t let him back into my life. I won’t survive this. I won’t be able to pick up the broken pieces of my life and sew them back together a second time._

He took a shuddering breath, taking out his phone. He paused for a moment, before deleting _Come What May_ from his phone.

 _Goodbye, Victor_ , he thought, letting out a little sob that echoed in the vast, empty space. _Goodbye, my love._

He pocketed his phone, looking out at the overcast morning, his chest hollow, eyes finally dry.

 

 

 

* * *

The next two weeks were a haze.

He slept, but he woke up tired. He ate food, but he barely tasted it.

Everything had a sort of desaturated quality to it, as if the sensory aspects of life were coming through the wrong end of a megaphone.

The one thing he threw himself into completely was skating. He clung to the dream of standing at the top of the World podium because it was all he had left. All he had to look forward to.

Late at night, he would put in his headphones and listen to _Rise_ , staring at the wall where the poster of Victor used to be.

He dreaded seeing Victor again in real life. He couldn’t even look at pictures of him without wanting to break down in tears; it would be ten times worse when he saw him in person, saw him skate.

But he couldn’t let the end of his career be overwritten by Victor breaking up with him. He couldn’t let his story end there, with his last competition a total failure.

True champions rise up from the ashes, transforming their former selves to reach a single goal.

If this was to be his final performance, it was going to be _his_ , and his alone. He was going to rise to the top, and finally take gold.

 

 

* * *

“That’s _it,_ ” Phichit said, slamming the door behind him one Friday afternoon, halfway through a blustery March. 

Sitting at his desk, Yuuri flinched at the noise, pulling his headphones off his ears. “The _fuck_ , Phich.”

Phichit made a beeline for him. “It’s been like, four weeks. I think it’s time for you to get out of this room for something other than practice.”

Yuuri felt his shoulders hunch. “I’m...but I…”

“I know. You’re heartbroken. And with good reason.” Phichit put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “But you know what’s great for curing heartbreak?”

Yuuri looked up at him tiredly. “I don’t know, Phich. What?”

“Fresh dick.”

“Ugh,” Yuuri groaned, wrestling out of his grasp. “I’m _not_ ready for that.”

“Okay, okay, that’s fair, but...do you think going out would at least get your mind off things for a bit?”

“I don’t need to get my mind off of anything, I—”

“No, that’s just it,” Phichit interrupted, crossing his arms. “You are acting like nothing even happened at all. You train more hours a day than anyone I know. You barely speak. I wake up in the middle of the night and you’re gone, to the rink again, I assume.”

Yuuri flushed slightly. More often than not, he was.

“It was a struggle for me to even get myself to go to practice, Phich. To face other people. You know that.”

“I know, I know. But this is the thing: you’re going to have to reenter the world eventually. Maybe this will take your mind off of things for a bit.”

Yuuri looked down at his hands, picking at his thumb cuticle. He didn’t like crowds; Phichit was much more of an extrovert in that way. But Phichit was right. He had barely gone out in public in weeks.

“Pleaaaaaasseee,” Phichit whined, kneeling in front of Yuuri, fluttering his eyelashes. “For me?”

“Fine,” Yuuri said eventually. “Though I don’t have anything to wear, all my nice clothes are still…you know.”

Phichit waggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Just leave it to me, Bambi.”

 

 

 

* * *

A couple of hours later, they stepped into a dimily-lit nightclub, the booming bass vibrating into Yuuri’s skin. There were hundreds of people on the dance floor, lit by black lights, men in glitter and hot pants weaving between the club-goers with trays of jello shots.

He and Phichit had been here before, mostly during the off-season when they didn’t have to get up as early. It was a pretty well-known gay club downtown, frequented by college students and urban professionals alike.

Phichit grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the bar. As they passed, Yuuri noticed men turning to stare at them, several pairs of eyes widening in recognition. Yuuri felt his shoulders hunch a bit, trying not to make eye contact, but it was probably already too late. They were going to be on social media any second now.

Once they got to the front of the line, Phichit pointed at a drink the bartender was pouring. “Two of whatever that glowy drink is.”

The bartender nodded, starting to mix two more.

“I don’t want—” Yuuri started to protest.

“You’ll drink what I give you, and you’ll like it,” Phichit ordered, winking. He was wearing a completely sheer black shirt, paired with black leather pants that were so tight they could have been painted on, and winged eyeliner. It was definitely an attention-grabbing ensemble.

Yuuri, on the other hand, had borrowed some tight dark jeans and a long sleeved, deep black v-neck, because as Phichit put it, “everything he owned was far too big for him.” Phichit had also styled his hair and done his makeup, so that he at least looked presentable.

“Excuse me.” A hand tapped Yuuri on the shoulder.

Yuuri turned around to see a trim, muscled man about his height, with dark hair and piercing green eyes. He gave Yuuri an obvious once-over. “Would you like to dance?” he asked, flashing a smile.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m here with someone,” Yuuri said, turning his back again.

“I’m telling you, Yuuri, you could get laid so easily if you wanted to,” Phichit said, handing him a drink that glowed pink under the blacklights.

Rolling his eyes, Yuuri took a sip, trying to calm his nerves. He looked around over the glass, and sure enough, more men were looking in their direction, whispering behind hands, some of them very obviously checking Phichit out.

“C’mon, let’s go dance.” Phichit grabbed his hand again Yuuri let himself be led toward the heaving mass of people on the dance floor.

Though it had been a while since they’d been there, they fell into the same routine as always, dancing together for song after song. Yuuri closed his eyes, losing himself in the pumping bass, dancing close enough to Phichit that other men wouldn’t hit on him.

Eventually, Yuuri had to admit, the buzz of alcohol and the adrenaline-inducing loud music was getting his mind off Victor. If only a little bit.

Three drinks and several jello shots later, everything was starting to go a bit hazy.

Yuuri grabbed yet another jello shot from a tray, throwing a dollar bill under the waistband of the man in gold hot pants, who winked at him.

“Okay, slugger, you’ve had enough, I think.” Phichit tried to grab the shot out of his hands.

Yuuri knocked his hand away, taking the shot immediately. “ _You’re_ the one who wanted me to come out,” he slurred, poking a finger into Phichit’s sternum.

“I know, but I didn’t mean that you should get head-in-the-toilet, sobbing-in-the-cab-at-2 am wasted,” Phichit said.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Go big or go home, m’Pooch.”

Phichit sighed exasperatedly.

The next song started, and a very attractive man started dancing close to Phichit. Phichit turned to look at Yuuri, eyebrows raised.

“He’s cute, go for it,” Yuuri whispered into his ear. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“M’fine. Going to get another drink.”

Phichit frowned disapprovingly, but didn’t protest. Yuuri stumbled off the dance floor, his eyes going a bit blurry, wishing he hadn’t worn his contacts. They were so dry they were getting a bit stuck in the wrong position, making it hard to see.

Once he got near the bar, a hand stopped him. Yuuri turned around, staring up at a light-haired man a few inches taller than him.

“V—Victor?” he stammered.

He blinked a couple of times, and the man’s face came more into focus.

It wasn’t Victor; the man was much more square in the chest, his eyes much darker than Victor’s, and his hair was sandy-colored rather than silver.

The man smirked, taking a step forward. “No,” the man said. “But I’m guessing you’re Yuuri Katsuki, then. I thought as much. You’re even hotter in person than you are on TV, and newly single. Lucky me.”

The man bit his lip, eyes flicking down Yuuri’s form. Yuuri felt his face heat as the man dragged his gaze back up.

“I’m here with someone,” Yuuri blurted out.

“I doubt it,” the man said, crowding into Yuuri’s space. “Want to go somewhere more private?” he asked.

“No.” Yuuri started to turn away, but the man caught his arm.

“I think you do,” he said, pulling Yuuri closer again, until their mouths were inches apart.

Yuuri pressed his hand to the man’s sternum and pushed him back, more forcefully than was really necessary.

“I _said,_ leave me alone,” Yuuri snapped, wrenching himself out of the man’s grasp.

He turned and walked quickly back toward the dance floor.

Phichit was grinding against the hot guy from earlier, but when he saw Yuuri’s expression, he said something to the guy and immediately left him, walking quickly over to Yuuri. The hot guy crossed his arms, frowning, then shrugged and moved on.

“What’s wrong?” Phichit asked immediately.

Yuuri shook his head. “Can…can we just go?” Yuuri felt his lower lip trembling, wrapping his arms around himself. He suddenly felt nearly sober; the comfortable buzz of the alcohol was gone.

Phichit nodded, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the loud club. Yuuri tried to ignore the stares from all sides as they left.

 

 

 

* * *

Yuuri woke far too early, his head pounding, mouth dry. Groaning, he got up and went to the bathroom, downing some aspirin and relieving himself.

When he got back, Phichit was sitting up in his bed, hair sticking up in all directions.

“What is it?” Yuuri croaked.

Phichit winced, his eyes flicking up to meet Yuuri’s.

“Oh god, what happened now?” Yuuri sat down on his bed next to him, grabbing the phone from his hands and scrolling back up to the top of the article he was reading.

“ _Shit_ ,” he cursed under his breath, seeing the title.

 

 

**CHULANONT AND KATSUKI AN ITEM?**

**DETROIT** — _Phichit Chulanont and Yuuri Katsuki were spotted in a gay club in downtown Detroit last night, drinking, dancing, and generally getting pretty chummy._

_[Photo of Yuuri facing Phichit on the dance floor, Phichit whispering something in Yuuri’s ear as they dance close together, Phichit’s hands on his hips]_

_Several other men apparently were hitting on Katsuki, too, so apparently Chulanont doesn’t mind sharing?_

_[photo of the tall blond man leaning in close to Yuuri, holding him close, in what looks like the prelude to a kiss]_

_As far as we know, there hasn’t been an  official divorce announcement (or a statement of any kind) from Katsuki or Nikiforov. However, as **we have reported for the past few weeks,** Katsuki has been seen going in and out of the same dormitory where Chulanont lives, so it appears that they have moved back in together. Katsuki has not been wearing his wedding ring since he first reemerged in public. Seems like he’s moving on from his whirlwind romance with Nikiforov, which only lasted a few months._

_Hey, if serial monogamy is your thing, Yuuri, go for it. But we think you could probably get some ass now that you’re single._

_Log on to **Twitter** to share your thoughts!_

 

“I can’t believe they said that about you,” Phichit said angrily, twisting his hand in his shirt. “What _idiots_.”

“I’m so stupid, I should have known people were going to take pictures of us. Even amateurs can make money off of this.” Yuuri handed him back the phone, his stomach roiling, though whether it was from the article or from his hangover, he wasn’t sure. 

“Who was that guy?” Phichit asked. “Is that why you wanted to leave so suddenly?”

Yuuri pressed his lips together as he nodded.

“Did you…?” Phichit licked his lips.

“No, I didn’t kiss him. He practically assaulted me, Phich. I was trying to get away.”

“Jesus, I would have punched him if I had seen,” Phichit ran his fingers through his hair, which just made it stick up even more.

Yuuri still felt sick. “I need to lie down, I think.”

Phichit’s hand shot out, stopping him. “Wait. There’s more.” He grabbed the phone from Yuuri, tapped on his Twitter app, scrolled down and clicked on a thread. He handed it back to Yuuri, face grim.

 

 **@victornews #victornikiforov** spotted at St. Petersburg airport. He was apparently trying to go incognito, wearing sunglasses and a beanie, but then he was forced to remove them when he went through security [photo]. He was later seen sitting by the gate, [photo] As you can see, it appears that “Detroit” was on the screen in the background. Then as the plane was boarding, he abruptly got up, ripped up his ticket, and left the airport. Speculation abounds. [photo of Victor, face a mask of anguish, walking away from the gate, ripping his ticket in half]

 **@victuuriforever** what is even //happening// anymore [link]

                 Reply from **@katsukiss**  
                 Looks like Victor was about to board a plane to go after Yuuri...

                 Reply from **@victuuriforever**  
                 **Why** didn’t he get on the plane?? (sob)

                 Reply from **@sayonarabb**  
                 The photos of Yuuri at the klerb having a gay ass time with Phichit broke right around then, maybe he had second thoughts.

                 Reply from **@victuuriforever**  
                 Jfc. VICTOR. PLS. END MY SUFFERING. TALK TO YUURI. PLEASE. IM BEGGING.

                 Reply from **@katsukiss**  
                 It might have also been the fact that Yuuri is no longer wearing his ring

                 Reply from **@victuuriforever**  
                 But Victor hasn’t taken his off though

                 Reply from **@sayonarabb**  
                 Whatever the reason, it looks like Yuuri’s moving on. The end.

                 Reply from **@behindthecurtain**  
                 Guys, chill and stop listening to the tabloids. This isn’t the end for Yuuri and Victor.

                 Reply from **@katsukiss**  
                 Idk, it’s looking pretty bad.

                 Reply form **@behindthecurtain**  
                 Have a little faith.

 

“What the _fuck_ ,” Yuuri muttered, his heart pounding in his ears, throwing Phichit’s phone on the bed.

“He was about to get on a plane to Detroit. I’m sure of it.”

Yuuri met Phichit’s gaze.

“Stop it, Phich,” he said hoarsely.

“I’m just saying, maybe—”

“ _Don’t._ ” Yuuri felt tears starting to well up in his eyes. “The tabloids just want to make more drama. He was probably going to see his parents again or something, or he was going to fly somewhere for a sponsorship shoot and he just happened to be sitting near that gate—”

“But what if he wasn’t?” Phichit interrupted. “What if he’s been trying to get in contact with you over and over again for a reason? What if he was coming here to tell you that he still loves you?”

Yuuri licked his lips, glancing down at the phone again. The photo of Victor as he walked away from the gate, eyes glistening with tears, was still on the screen.

“It makes no sense, Phich.”

“I know, I know it doesn’t. I just—” Phichit made an exasperated noise, putting his hands on Yuuri’s knees. “Look at his eyes, Yuuri. He’s in pain too. I can’t believe he was using you this whole time, if he looks like that.”

Yuuri closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I can’t do this, Phich.”

Phichit sighed, taking his phone back. “Okay, okay. Maybe just...think about hearing him out, though. For me.”

Yuuri opened his eyes, looking out the window at the grey sky, the dirty snow on the sides of the sidewalks.

It was only a week and a half until they left for Worlds, and he had to put everything he had—mind, body, soul—into preparing for the competition.

He didn’t have the time or energy to think about Victor and his motivations.

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” he lied.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for VERY brief mention of suicidal ideation (but no characters are actually suicidal)
> 
> I know you guys are dying to know what’s happening to Victor right now. Patience, my darlings.
> 
> There’s some back and forth in the fandom as to what school Phichit and Yuuri go to--some people even say that Yuuri was doing correspondence to a uni in Japan. For ease, I decided to have them be students of Wayne State, which is near downtown Detroit.
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://victuuriplease.tumblr.com/) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/astudyinroseirl)


	18. Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri travels to Tokyo for the World Championships, and he meets someone he didn't expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s been a bit since the last update. I had some major life changes in the last two months—my wife and I moved to a new apartment, and I started a new job. This chapter was also a very difficult one to write, but it’s very important to the story, and I didn’t want to force it. I appreciate your patience, and I hope it’s worth the wait!
> 
> As always, conversations in italics are all taking place in Japanese.
> 
> See end of chapter for WARNINGS.
> 
> Thank you to Laura longhornletters for putting up with me while this chapter took shape, and for helping me every step of the way <3

 

Yuuri bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his nose and plopped onto the ice, disappearing immediately into its surface.

The darkness beyond the window was oppressive, snow falling heavier by the second. Every other skater had left the rink long ago.

“Again,” Celestino barked out. 

Yuuri wiped the sweat off his brow, standing up straight on shaking legs. “But I—”

“I _said_ , do it again,” Celestino interrupted. “If you want to use the quad flip in your short program, I want to see you land it five times in a row without so much as a wobble.”

Yuuri hesitated. “I don’t know if I can do it again," he said, his voice trembling.

Celestino crossed his arms. “I don’t know if Victor allowed you to talk back, but that’s not how I’m doing things. Not if you want to be a world champion. Do it again.” 

Yuuri flinched at the low blow. But then the seething hurt and anger pulsed through him, cutting through the exhaustion. He clenched his teeth, skating around the rink to gain speed before launching into the jump.

When he took off, he knew immediately that it wasn’t right, and he didn’t quite make it through four rotations before he landed, his hand touching down on the ice. 

Celestino’s expression was inscrutable. “Again,” he commanded.

 

 

* * *

Hours later, Yuuri trudged back across the dark campus through the drifting snow, his entire body aching. He’d finally landed the flip four times in a row, but then Celestino had made him go through his most difficult step sequence three full times before he'd let him leave.

Yuuri unlocked the door to their dorm room, closing it behind him with more force than was necessary. Phichit was sitting on his bed, watching something on his computer. 

“Hey,” Yuuri said tiredly, dropping his gear bag near the door and taking off his hat. 

Phichit shut the laptop quickly and sat up. “Hey, sup?” he said, with forced casualness. 

Yuuri paused in the middle of unwinding his scarf. “Uh. If you need some more…er, alone time, I can go sit at the corner café for a bit…”

“What? No, I—I wasn’t…doing _that_ ,” Phichit stammered, his face going beet-red. 

“Okay,” Yuuri said slowly. “I mean, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, you just were supposed to text me that eggplant emoji if you—” 

“I wasn’t watching _porn_ , Yuuri!” 

Yuuri crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, what _were_ you doing, then?” 

Phichit bit his bottom lip and averted his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me,” Yuuri warned.

Phichit winced. “Never mind, you’re right. I should come clean, I was...I was watching...porn.Sorry I didn’t warn you, I’ll be better about it.” 

“No. You’re still lying.” Yuuri crossed over to him and grabbed the computer. Phichit launched himself off the bed, trying to grab it back, but Yuuri twisted out of his reach and opened it.

When the screen blinked to life, Yuuri’s jaw dropped: it was a frozen image of Victor in the middle of an interview. 

“W—what is this?” Yuuri stuttered, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Shit.” Phichit hunched his shoulders, looking chagrined. “Um. It’s the first time he’s made any public statement since Taipei.”

Curiosity burned through Yuuri’s veins. He had avoided any mentions of Victor since the night they’d gone to the club, deleting all his social media accounts, rarely going online. Instead, he’d put his head down and focused hard on training, on winning Worlds. It wasn’t a good idea to break that pattern, not when Tokyo was just around the corner...not when he’d _just_ begun to regain some semblance of sanity. 

But he couldn’t help wondering. 

“What did he say?” Yuuri found himself asking, his voice low. 

Phichit paused. “Maybe, um. You should just watch it.”

“Phich,” Yuuri whispered. He was exhausted from practice, and he wasn’t sure he could handle any more pain, mental or physical.

“I know. I wouldn’t tell you to, I really wouldn’t, but I...I think you should see this." 

Yuuri took a deep breath, but then he turned and sat down on the edge of his bed, cradling the computer on his lap. Phichit sat down next to him, close enough that their thighs were pressed together.

Yuuri took a long breath in and out before he dragged the cursor to the beginning of the interview and pressed play. 

On the screen, a sunglasses-clad Victor walked out of the practice rink in St. Petersburg, his hair damp with sweat, gear bag on his shoulder.

“Victor!” a paparazzo shouted. “Victor, why won’t you talk to the press? Why is Yuuri still in Detroit? Did he fire you as his coach? Is he leaving you for Phichit? Have you filed for divorce yet?”

Instead of shouldering past the cameras like he normally did, Victor paused after that last question, staring right at the cameraman. He removed his glasses, revealing his pale, wan face, dark circles under his eyes. 

“I’m not filing for divorce,” he said, his voice venomous.

The paparazzi immediately moved to surround Victor, all shouting questions at once.

“Why is Yuuri in Detroit then? Why were you absent for his free skate? What did you think of his disastrous performance—”

Victor held up his hand, the gold ring on his finger glinting in the winter light. “Quiet,” he snapped. 

Silence fell immediately. Victor looked around at them, his presence so commanding that they remained silent. 

“Yuuri’s performance was not his best, but that was my fault,” Victor said evenly. “We had an argument before the free skate—an argument of a personal nature—and it ruined his focus that day. Again, I take full responsibility for that. Yuuri is in Detroit because he wanted to train with Celestino for the last month before Worlds, and allow me to focus on my own routines.” 

“But why is he with Chulanont?” someone called out. “Are they fucking?”

Victor’s eyes narrowed, glaring at the paparazzo. “Phichit Chulanont is a close friend and rink mate, nothing more,” he replied tersely. “Yuuri and I have not broken up, despite what some so-called _reporters_ are saying.” 

There was a bit of scuffling around as the paparazzi grumbled under their breaths. 

Victor took a deep breath, licking his lips. “I love Yuuri more than words can say. And I’m looking forward to reuniting with him in Japan. Thank you.”

With that, he turned and walked briskly over to his waiting town car. The paparazzi followed him, shouting more questions, but he didn’t answer. He slid into the car, shutting the door quickly, and was whisked away as the video ended.

Yuuri stared at the screen, his entire body shaking. 

“What. The. Fuck,” he managed to say, after several seconds.

“I know,” Phichit said, his voice soft. 

Yuuri closed the laptop and placed it on the bed, staring at it for a second, before standing up and starting to pace back and forth. Suddenly he was wide awake, adrenaline rushing his system; he felt agitated, off-kilter, and most of all, confused.

Phichit remained on the bed, silently watching him walk back and forth.

“He...he just completely...lied,” Yuuri stuttered.

Phichit shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. Um.”

Yuuri sunk his hands into his hair, tugging it a little. “It’s just... _why_?”

“Maybe he’s saving face?” 

“He’ll have to tell them the truth eventually,” Yuuri countered, continuing to pace. “I mean, I know we are going to have to file for divorce eventually, but that means I’d have to see him in person, and I just...I can’t deal with that right now.”

Phichit said nothing, just watched Yuuri walk back and forth. 

Yuuri stopped pacing, standing in front of him. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” he demanded. 

Phichit stood up slowly and took him by the shoulders. “Yuuri, I know you don’t even want to consider this, but maybe…just _maybe_ , this was a plea to you. Maybe he was asking you—begging you, even—to come back to him.” 

Yuuri shook his head, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes until he saw stars. “Phich. I can’t...I can’t even think that way.” 

“I know. It’s just…” Phichit trailed off. “Can you look at me?” 

Yuuri dropped his hands, shuddering breaths escaping his lips.

Phichit swallowed, hesitating a moment. “I know you’ve told me not to say this, but...I think he might actually be heartbroken too, Yuuri.” Phichit grabbed the laptop and pulled it open again, rewinding the video to a close-up of Victor.

“Look at his face. Really look. What do you see?”

“I can’t.” Yuuri turned away, but Phichit caught his arm. 

“I mean it, Yuuri. Look at him as if you didn’t know him. Just do it for me.”

Yuuri clenched his teeth, biting back another excuse, but he did as he was asked. He scrutinized the photo, trying to look at it objectively.

Victor’s eyes, those brilliant turquoise-blue eyes that had once been his whole world, were dull and lifeless. His skin was pale, almost grey; his cheeks were hollow, and he looked exhausted and worn. He wasn’t the carefree shining star of the skating world. He was a husk, an empty shell, a shadow of his former self. 

“Why would he look like that if he never cared about you?” Phichit pressed. 

Yuuri gently pushed Phichit away. 

“He’s probably just worried about his sponsorships. Or he’s tired from training for Worlds.” 

Phichit sighed, hanging his head. “Yuuri.”

Yuuri pinched his nose, a headache starting to form behind his eyes. The surge of adrenalin had drained out of him, and Yuuri felt exhausted again. “Just stop it, okay? I can’t...I can’t even contemplate this, not when Worlds are days away. You know what happened at Four Continents. I have to stay focused."

"Okay, okay, Yuuri," Phichit acquiesced, holding up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

"I'm going to shower." Yuuri started stripping out of his clothes, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist.

Before he crossed the threshold into the bathroom, Phichit asked, “What are you going to do?” 

Yuuri stopped, pressing his palms into the doorframe. “I’ll...I’ll ask him if we can quietly divorce after Worlds. It’ll be less of a spectacle during the off-season.” 

Phichit looked at him, his grey eyes full of sadness. “Is that what you want?” 

Yuuri’s chest clenched. “I can’t have what I really want,” he whispered, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.

He turned on the water and sat on the toilet lid, quietly crying into a hand towel until he had no tears left.

 

 

* * *

That night, Yuuri couldn’t sleep. 

He’d tried to put the interview out of his mind, but he kept seeing Victor’s face: eyes shadowed, tight lines around his mouth that hadn’t been there before.

His wedding ring still on his finger.

_Why is he still wearing it? Is it to garner sympathy? To make himself seem more unobtainable when he goes out and sleeps with other men?_

His own ring, which was still sitting in his desk drawer, burned a hole in his mind.

Eventually, Yuuri gave in, standing up and padding over to the desk. 

He pulled the drawer open, looking down at the little circle of gold. Eventually, he picked it up, holding it in his palm the way he had over a month ago at the waterfront.

He could keep it as a reminder of what they’d had—at least, what he’d _thought_ they had. But what was the point?

After a long while, Yuuri sniffled, nodding to himself, and then walked over to his gear bag. He slipped the ring into the interior zipper pocket, making sure it couldn’t be lost before he gave it back to Victor, to finally say goodbye for good. 

He fell back in bed afterward, and after a long time, he was able to drift off to sleep.

 

  

* * *

Two days later, they flew through Chicago, boarding a fourteen-hour connecting flight to Tokyo just as the sun was setting.

Yuuri knew that jet-lag could be a killer for a competition, so he took half a sleeping pill, floating into a fitful sleep.

He dreamed of the glittering Hasetsu ocean under the summer sky. Wet sand seeped between his toes as seagulls cried overhead, the sea breeze whipping over his face. Light reflected off the deep blue water, white caps extending into a blurry horizon. 

“Yuuri!” someone called out from behind him. 

Yuuri tensed, recognizing the voice instantly. 

He turned to see Victor walking barefoot through the surf, his grin as bright as the summer sun. He was wearing a white shirt, the bottom of his linen pants rolled up to keep them out of the water.

Yuuri watched, frozen in place, as Victor came directly up to him.

“Hello, my Yuuri,” Victor said, smiling. He reached out and cupped Yuuri’s cheek, his fingers feather-light on Yuuri’s skin. He looked different; his cheeks were sun-kissed and full, his eyes the exact same color as the sea behind him. 

Yuuri leaned into the touch, despite the fact that he knew he should step back, step away. “I miss you so much,” he said, voice cracking. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Victor shook his head. “You can win gold without me.” 

Yuuri blinked back tears. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Victor seemed to understand. He stepped closer, sliding his free hand around Yuuri’s waist. “I still love you,” he said softly. 

“I don’t believe you.” The tears spilled over, sliding down Yuuri’s cheeks. 

“I’ll show you.” Victor moved closer until their lips were centimeters apart.

“Victor,” Yuuri breathed. 

Victor’s lips turned upward. “Solnyshko,” he whispered, leaning in. “How I have missed you.” 

As their lips were about to touch, Yuuri jolted awake.

A sleepy-looking Phichit, who was sitting in a seat across the aisle, looked up from his phone. 

“Morning, Bambi,” he said. “I ordered you some _genmaicha_.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri replied hoarsely. He turned toward the window, sniffling, wiping his eyes. The dream had felt so real, right down to the touch of Victor’s hand on his cheek, the brush of his lips. And now he was left with a sense of loss, of life and love slipping through his fingers until it was gone. 

“ _Good morning!_ ” the flight attendant said in Japanese, appearing at his elbow with a pot of tea. 

“ _Thank you_ ,” Yuuri replied, sitting up. He rubbed his eyes and put on his glasses before he poured some. He sipped it slowly, trying to forget the dream, but he could still feel the sand between his toes, the unfurling of Victor’s breath on his skin. 

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, his hands cupped around the warm tea, indulging, just for a bit, in the dream-memory of Victor’s body pressed against him. 

When he walked off the plane, Yuuri threw away the rest of the sleeping pills.

 

 

* * *

They arrived at their Western-style Tokyo hotel at about midday. 

Yuuri had insisted on going to a different hotel from most of the skaters, so that he would have less of a chance of running into Victor, and Phichit had agreed without protest. Truthfully, Yuuri could have afforded his own room at this point—his Nike sponsorship payout had been deposited in his account, and he’d felt dizzy when he had seen the number—but sharing a room was force of habit. He wasn’t used to spending a lot of money unnecessarily, and the sponsorship felt tainted, now, anyway.

“Be downstairs in two hours for the first practice session,” Celestino said in the elevator, checking his watch.

Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh. I was thinking I could just practice later. Not during the official session? If that’s okay.”

Celestino frowned. “You’re going to have to face him at some point, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri flinched, and Phichit put a hand on his arm reassuringly. 

Celestino sighed. “Fine. Just for today, you can skip the official practice. I’ll see if I can arrange for you to skate later.” 

“Thank you.” Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Phichit, I’ll see you downstairs at three.” Celestino left the elevator on his floor, and Yuuri and Phichit went up a few more flights.

Yuuri unlocked their door with his key card, and they rolled their suitcases into the entryway. The room was modest quarters compared with the suites Nadiya used to book for him and Victor, though admittedly, it was rather large for Tokyo—a single room with two double beds. 

“Oh man, I am starving,” Phichit said, plopping down on one of the beds and taking out his phone. “What’s good around here?” 

“I think I’m going to take a shower and nap,” Yuuri said, taking out his toiletry bag. 

“Okay. I’m going to find something before practice.” Phichit got up and grabbed a key card.

“Kay.”

Phichit hesitated at the door, his hand on the handle. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t want me to stay with you? We could order room service.”

Yuuri sighed. “I’m not going to be okay until this is all over, Phich.”

Phichit nodded, shifting from foot to foot. “You still need to eat, though.” 

“Go ahead. It’s okay.”

“I’ll bring something back for you.”

Yuuri nodded, watching the door close behind him. He took a long, hot shower, put his pyjamas on quickly and fell into one of the beds, drifting off almost immediately.

 

 

* * *

When Yuuri woke up, it was late afternoon. Phichit was still gone. Yuuri picked up his phone to check the time and groaned; he definitely shouldn’t have slept so long, not if he wanted to adjust to the time zone. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he checked his texts. 

There was one from Celestino, letting him know that he could use the rink at nine, and one from Phichit, asking if he’d like to join a few mutual friends for dinner. 

Yuuri felt restless and wanted to get out of the room, yet he didn’t want to have to socialize. He sent Phichit a quick text to decline dinner, and got dressed, donning his hat and mask. He grabbed his gear bag and took the elevator down to the lobby, walking out into the brisk spring night. 

After he grabbed some stir fry noodles at a street stand, Yuuri wandered generally in the direction of the Yoyogi National stadium, watching the passersby. As always, Tokyo was overwhelming; there were millions of bright lights, thousands of people squished onto the sidewalk. It gave him a sense of claustrophobia and sensory overload. He used to enjoy being back in his home country, hearing his own language, but it felt foreign in a way that it never had before. Detroit no longer felt like home, either. For the short time he’d been in St. Petersburg, the city had started to feel like home.

Maybe he’d never feel like he had a home again. 

By the time Yuuri got to the rink, it was mostly empty. There were only a few stragglers left from the official practice and some rink organizers getting ready for the competition. 

Yuuri warmed up slowly, taking the time to stretch out his muscles after traveling for so long. The last thing he needed was an injury.

Eventually, all the other skaters had left, so he had the ice to himself. He ran through Eros twice, then practiced the quad flip until his thighs were shaking. Celestino would be angry with him if he was too tired the next day, so he just did the opening step sequence a couple more times before he left the ice.

Yuuri sat down on a bench and started to change back into his street shoes. As he tightened his laces, he caught a shadow out of the corner of his eye...but when he turned to look down the tunnel, it was gone.  

He took the long way back to the hotel, his mind preoccupied with the competition, but for some reason the shadowy figure in the arena kept coming back into his thoughts. He checked over his shoulder several times, but there was no one following him.

 

 

* * *

Yuuri woke up the next morning to see Phichit sitting on the foot of his bed.

“Morning,” Phichit chirped, tying his sneakers.

“Hey,” Yuuri croaked, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “Time’s it?” 

“Seven. Our official practice is at nine, but we need to eat first.”

Yuuri sighed, letting his head fall back on the pillow. He felt like he could go back to sleep for a thousand years. 

“Are you coming?” Phichit asked, picking up his Thai National team jacket. “You’re going to have to see him—”

“Eventually, I know,” Yuuri interrupted. “You sound like Ciao Ciao.”

“He has a point, though. Would you rather see him for the first time tomorrow, at the short program?” 

Yuuri groaned, covering his face with both hands. “No,” he admitted. 

Phichit put a hand on Yuuri’s blanketed shin. 

“I can’t imagine how hard it would be to see him,” Phichit said. “But you came here for a reason, Yuuri.” 

“I know,” Yuuri said, his voice muffled. He dropped his hands, biting his lip. “Was he...there yesterday?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

Phichit was silent.

“I take that as a yes,” Yuuri grumbled.

“He was,” Phichit admitted. “And, um…”

“What?” 

Phichit shrugged. “He uh, he kind of...tried to talk to me.” 

Yuuri sat up. “What? Why?” 

Phichit chewed his bottom lip, looking guilty. “Yuuri...I think—” 

“Not again, Phich,” Yuuri groaned. “Stop telling me to hear him out. I don’t need this right now.” 

Phichit tugged at a loose thread of the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I think he genuinely wants to talk to you about something. What harm could it do?”

“What harm? What _harm_? Are you seriously asking me that?” Yuuri kicked off the covers, swinging his legs out of bed.

“I—”

“This discussion is over,” Yuuri snapped, marching into the bathroom and slamming the door.

 

 

* * *

When they met Celestino for breakfast at the hotel restaurant, Yuuri and Phichit were barely speaking to each other. If Celestino noticed the frosty silence during the meal or in the cab, he said nothing. 

As Yuuri and Phichit walked into the athletes’ area, once again, there was an awkward pause in conversation among the competitors. Phichit didn’t act as a buffer like he normally did, though; instead, he walked over to chat with an American skater and a Chinese skater he was friendly with.

Trying to ignore the stares, Yuuri sat down to change. He took off his sneakers, throwing them in his bag, and put on one of his skates, pulling the laces taut. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an ice dancer from Italy take out her phone and snap a picture of him, flash and all. She started whispering to her friend, giggling, tapping away on her phone.

Yuuri sighed and leaned down to pull on his other skate, trying his best to ignore them.

Once he finished tightening his other skate, he glided out on the ice, aware that dozens of eyes were on him.

All of the major competitors were there, some already warming up: Patrick, Yuzuru, Javier, Jin. At one point he skated by Christophe Giacometti, who nodded at him formally, but said nothing. Yuuri nodded back politely. 

So far, there was no sign of Victor. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. 

Once he’d finished a cursory warm up, Yuuri skated over to Celestino, who was waiting by the boards. 

“Run through Eros,” he said. “Just mark the jumps. I want your legs rested for tomorrow.”

Yuuri frowned; he wanted to at least run through a jump or two, but given Celestino’s stern expression, it was pointless to argue. He pushed off again, going through the motions of his short program a couple of times before heading back over to the boards.

“Watch the extended leg on your camel spin,” Celestino said, handing him his water. “Otherwise, you look in top form.” 

Yuuri nodded, taking a sip of his bottle. “I think I should practice the quad salchow,” he said.

Celestino gave him an exasperated look. 

“Just once or twice,” Yuuri added quickly.

Celestino sighed. “Fine. But then you’re going back to the hotel to rest. I mean it.”

“Okay,” Yuuri agreed half-heartedly. He knew he needed to save his legs for the competition, but he had a lot of nervous energy at the moment.

Phichit skated over, and Celestino turned to speak to him in hushed tones; he was still having trouble with the triple axel.

Yuuri turned to lean against the boards, taking another long sip of his bottle. A group of French skaters standing on the opposite side of the rink was watching him with expressions of disdain, whispering behind their hands. 

Yuuri let the air in his lungs out in a whoosh and turned his back on the rink, hunching his shoulders again.

A man skated up next to him, picking up his water bottle. “Don’t pay attention to them, they’re just jealous,” the skater said.

Yuuri glanced over at the new arrival, smiling. “Hey, Adam. Good to see you.” Yuuri had seen Adam Rippon around on the world circuit for years, and he had a truly infectious good energy. 

“Hey kid.” Adam winked as he took a sip of water. “How’s tricks?” 

Yuuri glanced over his shoulder at the French skaters. “I think you already know.” 

Adam followed his gaze. “Yeah,” he said. “This must all suck.”

Yuuri snorted. “Understatement.” 

Adam leaned over the boards, resting on his forearms, nudging Yuuri with his shoulder. “Listen. I’m really sorry about...well, everything. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. Losing your husband and coach all in one go?” He whistled, shaking his head. 

Yuuri ducked his head, tugging at his gloves. “You have no idea how nice it is for someone to actually say it out loud. To me, anyway,” he added bitterly.

“You know me,” Adam shrugged. “Blunt as fuck.” 

Yuuri laughed. “Now that is a true statement if I’ve ever heard one.” 

Adam sighed, looking down at his water bottle. “This is the part where I should say something sassy and witty, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what you really need right now.” 

“What do I need, then?” 

“Just keep your head down and do what you do best.” Adam put a hand on his shoulder, grinning. “Skate your ass off.”

“I will. Thanks, Adam. For…” Yuuri trailed off, shrugging. _Not treating me like a pariah._ He was lucky that there were still some people out there who had his back.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Don’t even mention it. After this is all over, let’s get a drink and cry over boys together.” He held out his hand.

“Deal.”

As they were shaking on it, the rink went dead silent, all heads turning toward the far side.

Adam glanced over his shoulder. “Oh...shit,” he muttered. 

Yuuri followed his gaze, freezing immediately when he saw the cause of the commotion.

_Fuck._

Victor was standing at the edge of the rink across from them, gear bag on his shoulder, his eyes darting around until...his gaze met Yuuri’s.

Yuuri gasped, a visceral, searing pain tearing his chest apart.

A second ticked by, then two, and he was trapped in Victor’s piercing gaze. For some reason, after the initial agony at seeing him for the first time in weeks, the thing that Yuuri felt most was...longing. 

He was sure he was imagining it, but he almost thought he saw the same longing reflected in Victor’s eyes. It was as if he were drinking the sight of Yuuri in.

Yuuri finally tore his gaze away, turning his back. The world seemed to speed up, skaters starting to gossip all around him. 

“Are you okay?” Adam asked gently. 

“I, uh. I’m fine. I—I have to…” Yuuri stuttered. “Finish my warm up. See you around.” He pushed off and started skating again, refusing to look over at the other side of the rink.

After a few seconds, Phichit skated up to him. “Yuuri—” he began. 

“I’m _fine_ , Phich,” Yuuri snapped, skating faster until he outpaced him. Phichit shook his head, but he dropped back, leaving Yuuri alone. 

Yuuri kept his head down and skated through a step sequence. He was dimly aware that there were other bodies on the ice, but he gave them a wide berth and tried not to meet anyone’s eyes, fearful he’d be caught in Victor’s gaze again. 

He gained speed and launched into the quad salchow combination, landing it with a slight wobble. Figuring it had been long enough since Victor’s arrival that he could leave without it seeming like he was running away, Yuuri skated over to the boards and stepped off the ice as casually as he could muster.

As he sat down on a bench to clean off his skates and slide on his skate guards, a pair of skates stepped directly in front of him. 

Skates with gold blades.

Yuuri couldn’t help it; he looked upward on instinct.

Victor was directly in front of him, panting heavily.

“Yuuri,” he breathed. Up close, the circles under his eyes were even more pronounced.

“ _No_.” Yuuri stood immediately, backing up, putting as much space between them as he could. 

“Please, I just need to talk to you—” Victor started following him on his bare blades over the mats. 

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” Yuuri picked up his gear bag and started walking away briskly.

Victor looked stricken, his eyes darting around again as he followed Yuuri toward the athletes’ area. “I understand why you’d say that, but Yuuri, please, just give me two minutes, that’s all I need—”

“You’re going to ruin your blades,” Yuuri interrupted. 

“I don’t care,” Victor said, with such conviction that Yuuri almost believed it. “Yuuri—”

“Go away.”

Victor grabbed his arm, his fingers digging into Yuuri’s biceps. “I understand why you don’t want to listen to me, but Yuuri, please, just...just don’t go anywhere alone while you’re here. Please. Promise me.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Victor’s eyes pleading with him, and Yuuri almost fell for it. He almost asked Victor why he’d been about to board a plane to Detroit, why he’d denied that they had broken up.

Why he’d looked at Yuuri from across the rink like a drowning man who had finally come up for air. 

But then, he remembered the coldness in Victor’s voice when he’d said, “I don’t love you. I never did,” and the agony came roaring back. 

“I don’t know if you ever cared about me at all, even a tiny bit, but if you did, leave me _alone_ ,” Yuuri snapped, wrenching his arm out of Victor’s grip. He stalked away, ignoring all the whispers and stares.

When he got to the far side of the athletes’ area, Yuuri checked over his shoulder. Victor was no longer following him. He hunched his shoulders, knowing he should feel relieved, but all he felt was...disappointment.

Hoping that he would be able to avoid most of the paparazzi, Yuuri headed toward the back of the arena. He stopped at a bench to pull his sneakers on quickly, not even bothering to tie the laces, and threw his skates in his gear bag. 

Yuuri peeked out the back door, checking both directions, but the alley was blessedly silent and empty. He put up his hood and started walking toward the busy street at the other end. 

“Mr. Katsuki!” someone yelled after him a few seconds later.

Yuuri looked over his shoulder. A reporter had exited from the same door and was following him. He was wearing a long trench coat, and a baseball cap over his dark hair, and he seemed familiar in a way Yuuri couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Something about his eyes—intensely dark, almost black, yet flat and emotionless—made the hair on the back of Yuuri’s neck stand up. He strode toward Yuuri with purpose, holding out a small recorder. 

“A few questions, please. Just a minute of your time." 

“I’m not doing any interviews until after the competition.” Yuuri picked up his pace, walking briskly toward the mouth of the alley.

“Mr. Katsuki, please,” the reporter called out again. “Wait.” 

“I said no interviews,” Yuuri called back. 

The footsteps behind him didn’t stop; if anything, they sped up. Yuuri broke into a jog, his heart pounding. Something about the man felt wrong.

He finally got to the entrance of the alley and turned to walk out onto the main thoroughfare, immediately surrounded by throngs of people. He breathed a sigh of relief, walking toward the hotel. When he glanced back over his shoulder a few seconds later, the man was gone.

 

 

* * *

The morning of the short program dawned sunny and bright. Yuuri woke up with a start, panic immediately surging through him that he’d slept too late. He sat up, looking blearily at his phone, exhaling deeply when he saw the time. He could sleep for about another half hour, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep.

Phichit was still snoozing away, so Yuuri lay back down for a bit, facing the window, watching the sun start to peek over the horizon.

This was the moment when he should try and pump himself up, motivate himself to skate his best over the next few days. He should be visualizing his routine, imagine curving through each turn, launching into each spin, landing each jump. The gold medal being hung around his neck as the crowd roared his name. 

Instead, the only thing Yuuri could think about was the look in Victor’s gaze when their eyes had met across the rink. The deep blue irises, which had seemed dull and lifeless, possibly because of a trick of the light of the arena.

Eventually, Phichit’s alarm went off. He groaned and rolled over, silencing it. He rubbed his face, looking over at Yuuri.

“Morning,” Phichit said cautiously.

Yuuri turned over to look at him. “Hey.”

“Are we still fighting?” Phichit asked.

Yuuri sighed, shaking his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t have the energy to fight with you anymore.”

“I’m sor—” Phichit started to say. 

“Don’t,” Yuuri interrupted. “If anything, I should be apologizing, not you.” 

Phichit let his mouth click shut. “Okay,” he said, nodding, as if that settled things. He picked up the phone. “Now, how about we treat ourselves to room service for breakfast?”

 

 

 

* * *

As Yuuri did his warm up that morning, he glanced around warily, but Victor was nowhere to be seen.

When he stepped off the ice, Mona was waiting for him, access badge around her neck. There was a new streak of turquoise on her bangs, which suited her.

Her face brightened when she saw Yuuri. “Yuuri-san!” 

Yuuri laughed, sliding on his skate guards. “You don’t need to call me that.” 

“I’m just trying to learn the lingo.” Mona winked. “So, is now a good time for me to work my magic? Or do you have stuff you need to do?” 

Yuuri checked his watch. “No, now’s a good time. There’s a few hours until my wave.” 

“Perfect. Let’s get you dolled up then,” she drawled, linking her arm with his and leading him to a corner of the athletes’ area. She’d set up a makeshift makeup station, far away from the other skaters. 

Mona put on a smock that held a bunch of makeup brushes. “I still can’t believe you flew me out to the World Figure Skating Championships just to do your makeup. I must be dreaming,” she said, taking out some brushes.

Yuuri chuckled. “Have you done any sightseeing yet?”

“Not yet. I just got in last night, and I was beat. I made my return ticket for a few days after the free skate so that I can tour around a bit, though. Who knows when I’ll be back here, might as well take advantage. Hmmm. Okay, I think this was the shade I used for you last time.” 

Mona stuck out her tongue as she painted some liquid foundation on his chin. She sat back, squinting at him, then nodded. She added more liquid to the brush and started applying it all over his face. 

“So what have you been up to?” Yuuri asked as she worked.

“Ah, work work work, you know how it is. The SVU makeup artist’s husband got sick, so I was tapped to take over. I had to relocate to New York for a few months, but it’s no biggie. I love spending time in new cities.”

“That must be a lot of work.”

Mona shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s fun. I get to be on set almost every day, and the actors are pretty nice. Mariska especially. She’s still just as hot as she was twenty years ago, too, it’s insane.”

She popped the foundation brush back into her smock, and took out another brush and some blush. She swept it over his cheeks, then brushed his whole face with powder. 

“How’s your girlfriend?” Yuuri asked. 

“She’s good. She’s not happy I’m in New York, but she comes and visits a lot. She knows that this is the job, sometimes I’m going to be on location and that’s that.”

“What does she do?” 

“She’s a project manager. And no, I don’t know what that means, so don’t ask.” 

Yuuri giggled. Mona stood back, scrutinizing his face, then nodded. “Okay. So what are we doing with your eyes?”

“Ummm. I liked what you did for the Sports Illustrated shoot.” 

One of Mona's eyebrows quirked upward. “So, dramatic and sexy?” 

Yuuri felt his face heat a bit. “Yeah, I guess.” 

She smirked. “I can manage that.” She pulled out some brushes and eyeliner. They were silent for a bit; Yuuri had to close his eyes to let her work. 

After a few minutes, Mona cleared her throat. “I uh, I don’t want to overstep, or anything, but...I’m sorry. About Victor."

Yuuri let his eyes open. Mona paused, her expression tentative yet sympathetic.

“Thanks,” he said, not sure how else to respond. “It’s, uh. It’s been hard.”

She pressed her lips together in acknowledgement, and went on with his makeup as if the exchange had never occurred.

When Mona finally finished, she stepped back, tilting her head to the side. “You’re ready,” she said. 

She turned him around so that he could see himself. His skin was smooth with highlighted cheeks, and his lips redder than usual, but as before, his eyes were the most significant part of the ensemble. She’d outlined them beautifully with black winged eyeliner and an iridescent dark grey eyeshadow, making his eyes look larger and more golden brown. The main difference from the look she’d done for the Sports Illustrated shoot was that this time she’d added a shimmering silver around his eyes, making him look like a fae creature.

“Thanks, Mona, it's amazing,” he breathed.

She winked. “Go get em, kid.”

 

 

* * *

Phichit and Adam were in the second to last wave, so Yuuri went back out to the arena to watch them. Adam did well, though not well enough to crack into the top five—mostly because he didn’t have any quads, so his base score wasn’t as high as other skaters. He waved at Yuuri jovially as he left the ice and walked over to the kiss and cry.

Phichit was up next, the final skater in the wave. He closed his eyes and took a big breath in and out before he skated out onto the ice, waving upward at the crowd. He curved around to center, settling into his starting pose. 

The music began, and he swept into his opening moves. He skated beautifully through his step sequences and his spins were basically perfect, but he missed the triple axel, and he didn’t quite get enough rotations in his quad. He would be a force to reckon with in the next season or two, though.

Phichit finished in his final pose, panting. The crowd cheered as he picked up a couple of tokens and skated off the ice, face flushed, grinning from ear to ear.

Yuuri met him at the gap in the boards by the kiss and cry. 

“Great job, Phich,” Yuuri said, hugging him tightly. 

Phichit hugged him back. “Thanks, Yuuri.” 

“The triple axel—” Celestino started to say. 

“I know, I know. Chill. I’ll work on it during the off season.” Phichit rolled his eyes, sticking out his tongue at Yuuri, who laughed.

Celestino sighed, but he dropped it, leading Phichit toward the kiss and cry.

After a few minutes, Phichit’s score came up: 86.91. It was a personal best in his short program, but it wasn’t enough to put him in fighting position for the podium.

A voice over the loudspeakers announced that it was time for the final wave’s warmup. Yuuri unzipped his jacket and threw it on a bench, preparing to go out on the ice.

Yuzuru appeared at his side, smiling widely. “ _Yuuri. How are you_?” he asked in Japanese.

“ _Hey_ ,” Yuuri said, smiling back. “ _I’m fine, you_?” 

“ _Yeah good_ ,” Yuzuru nodded. “ _I tried to catch you earlier and say hello, but you seemed preoccupied_.” 

Yuuri’s mouth twisted. “ _Well. Yeah, um. I’m just trying to concentrate on competing, I guess_. _After what happened at Four Continents, I._..” he shrugged.

Yuzuru gave him the _look_ —the one everyone seemed to give him lately—the one full of pity and concern. Yuuri shrank a little into himself; It felt invasive and strange that everyone seemed to know he’d flopped in Taiwan because of a broken heart.

“ _You weren’t at your best, for obvious reasons,_ ” Yuzuru said. “ _But we all know what you’re capable of_.”

Yuuri started to protest, but he knew that would be ungracious, so instead he just nodded.

“ _Your makeup and costume look great, by the way_ ,” Yuzuru said, changing the subject.

Yuuri’s hand flew to his cheek. “ _Thanks. It’s a bit different_.” 

“ _I like it. It suits you_.” Yuzuru grinned, squeezing his shoulder, before he glided out on the ice. Yuuri took off his skate guards, putting them on the boards, and followed him.

He had done a few circuits, warming up his legs, when Victor stepped out onto the ice. The audience buzzed with excitement.

Yuuri tried to keep his head down and work. There was only so much he could do to avoid Victor in the enclosed space, however. Yuuri was coming out of his camel spin when Victor skated directly up to him. 

“Yuuri, can I talk to you after the warm up? Just for a moment?” Victor asked, his eyes lined with worry.

“I need to concentrate, Victor. Leave me alone.” Yuuri said through gritted teeth. He turned around and skated in the other direction.

But just like the day before, Victor didn’t give up that easily. “Yuuri, please, I’m begging you—” he called out, following Yuuri across the ice.

“If this is your way of making sure I flop, it’s not going to work,” Yuuri snapped.

“I wasn’t—” Victor started to protest, but Yuuri sped up, leaving him behind. 

Yuuri felt Victor’s eyes on him for the rest of the warm up, but thankfully, he didn’t try to approach him again. When Yuuri stepped off the ice when warm ups were over, he waved Celestino off. Celestino just nodded; he knew that Yuuri could over-analyze everything this close to a major competition, and it was usually best to just let him be. 

Yuuri grabbed his yoga mat and wandered down deserted hallways until he found a secluded spot, popping in his headphones. He had about half an hour until he was up to skate, so he put on one of his relaxing mixes and concentrated on loosening up his muscles. 

He counted the cheers as he stretched, and soon he heard Yuzuru’s name being announced.

Sighing, Yuuri pocketed his phone and rolled up his mat. As he stood up, he caught a glimpse of someone moving around the corner down the hall.

“Hello?” Yuuri called out, but there was no answer. 

He had that same itching feeling in the back of his mind that he’d had the day before, a distinct feeling of unease—of being watched. 

Yuuri walked quickly down the hallway in the opposite direction, stealing glances over his shoulder once or twice, but the hall remained empty.

When he made it back to the athletes’ area, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was starting to wonder if Victor’s dire-sounding warnings had made him paranoid. 

He stowed his mat by his gear bag, putting his skates back on and making his way down to the rink. Yuzuru was at the kiss and cry receiving his score, which meant Victor was up next, then Yuuri was last. 

Victor was near the gap in the boards, his face white and tense. He was nodding as Yakov said something to him, but he seemed distracted. Then, his gaze fell on Yuuri, and his face relaxed just a tiny bit. 

Victor’s name was announced, but he didn’t move to go out onto the ice. Yakov touched his shoulder briefly, and Victor shook himself visibly. He took off his skate guards, handing them to his coach before he glided out onto the ice, his costume glinting iridescently in the light. He spread his arms up at the crowd, smiling broadly—though it didn’t quite reach his eyes—as he skated around in a circuit.

He circled to the middle and stopped at center ice, settling into his starting pose.

Yuuri took one breath, then two, before the [familiar music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0aICiNOVvI&feature=youtu.be&t=44s) began.

 _Early morning, he wakes up_  
_Knock, knock, knock on the door_  

Victor spread his arms, smiling widely up at the crowd.

 _It’s time for makeup, perfect smile_  
_It’s you they’re all waiting for_  

He turned on his radius, sashaying his hips, and someone in the crowd wolf-whistled.

_Isn’t he lucky, this champion boy?_

Victor did a quick step sequence into his quad flip, landing lightly on his blade. Yuuri was mesmerized, as always. No matter how much he’d hurt Yuuri, Victor’s skating was still one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

 _And they say, he’s so lucky, he’s a star_  
_But he cry, cry, cries in his lonely heart_  

Victor knelt, hands on his heart, and it happened to be right next to where Yuuri was standing at the boards. Their eyes met, and for a split second Victor dropped his mask… and he looked unbelievably, heart-wrenchingly sad. It was so quick that no one else probably noticed it, because Victor immediately stood again, media smile plastered on his face as he launched into another step sequence. Yuuri looked around, wondering if anyone else had noticed, but everyone was smiling and clapping along with the upbeat music.

 _Thinking, if there’s nothing missing in my life_  
_Then why do these tears come at night?_  

Victor jumped, landing his quad toe, triple toe combo perfectly.

 _Lost in an image, in a dream_  
_But there’s no one there to wake him up_

He stretched his long body backward into an Ina Bauer, then launched into the flying sit spin, spinning so fast he was a blur. 

 _And the world is spinning and he keeps on winning_  
_But tell me, what happens when it stops?_  

He stopped his spin exactly on the final word, ice spraying everywhere as the crowd cheered. Victor leapt into the final step sequence, his body moving precisely yet gracefully through every move. 

 _Isn’t he lovely, this champion boy?_  
_He is so lucky, but why does he cry?_  

He landed the triple axel, then went into the camel combo spin, the crowd continuing to clap along with the beat.

 _If there is nothing missing in his life_  
_Why do tears come at night?_  

Victor froze in his final pose, arms outstretched, his face glistening with sweat.

The entire arena erupted in applause. After a few seconds Victor dropped his hands, waving up at them. 

Yuuri deliberately stayed far away from the gap in the boards, waiting for Victor to leave the ice. Celestino walked up to him, which gave Yuuri a good excuse to turn his back on Victor. “Ready?” 

Yuuri nodded, shaking out his arms. “Any last advice?”

Celestino’s eyes slid over Yuuri’s shoulder for a moment—toward the kiss and cry—then he put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about the points. Just go out there and show the world what you can do. You worked so hard for this, Yuuri. Now go shine.”

Yuuri pressed his lips together, nodding once, firmly. He took off his National Team jacket, handing it to Celestino without a word. 

The crowd roared as Victor’s scores were announced, but Yuuri didn’t look at the board; he didn’t want to know what the number was, didn’t want to focus on beating it. Instead, he closed his eyes and stood at the edge of the ice for a long moment. He let the buzz of the crowd, the chatter of other skaters and coaches, fade into the background. There was only him and the ice. 

Eros had once been about Victor: seducing Victor, and showing his love through his skating. But now…the only one he was skating for was himself.

_This is your moment. This is your time. Don’t let him take it away from you. You worked too hard for this._

Yuuri inhaled deeply, letting the smell of the ice seep into his senses, before he opened his eyes. 

“Now on the ice, Japanese National Champion, Katsuki Yuuri!” the announcer said over the loudspeakers.

Yuuri skated out to cheers from the crowd. He gave a cursory wave, gliding in a slow arc, feeling the dig of his blades into the ice, and stopped in the center. He tilted his hip to the side and lowered his gaze, waiting for the music to start. 

 _This is yours_. _Go out and get it._

The Spanish guitar trilled, and Yuuri twirled his arms around himself, stomping his foot out on the ice.

He whirled over the ice in his long opening step sequence, letting his hips sway seductively, switching from foot to foot, his body curving through each turn.

_Skating was my first love. It’s time to rekindle that fire._

He flew into the camel spin, his leg whipping through the air.

_This is my true passion, what I was born for._

He twirled out of the spin, skating around backwards, flicking his hands down his hips as he turned into the spread eagle, launching into triple axel. It was perfect, and the crowd cheered. 

 _Watch me dance, Victor,_ he thought.

He twirled on his axis, gaining speed. The quad salchow, triple toe loop combo went perfectly, and he swept into the next moves. He kicked his leg up to hip level, skating around, kneeling to expose his neck. 

 _I deserve the gold and you know it. Watch me. Watch me shine._  

He launched into the quad flip, his hardest jump, but his hand touched down on the ice at the end. 

_Fuck._

_It’s fine. Just finish. Just get through the end._  

Yuuri launched into the final combo spin, then threw his arms to the side and spun into an empty embrace, wrapping his arms around himself.

He panted, sweat beading on his brow, as the crowd applauded. 

He fell to his knees, tears springing to his eyes.

_It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t good enough to beat Victor._

_I’ve failed._  

He didn’t want to get off the ice, he didn’t want to see looks of derision and disappointment and pity on everyone’s faces. 

After a long few seconds, he got up and skated over to the boards, hands on his hips. 

Celestino handed him his skate guards. “Stop beating yourself up, it was one small mistake. It was perfect otherwise.”

Yuuri said nothing, just nodded tightly. They walked over to the kiss and cry and sat down. Celestino was saying something to him, but he didn’t quite register it. 

 _I failed again. I’m worthless_. 

His score was announced after what felt like an eon, and Yuuri looked up at the board.

Victor was in first place with a score of 116.48, Yuuri was in second with a 114.72, followed by Yuzuru with 110.56. Yuuri felt his jaw tighten. He still had a chance at gold if he skated a clean program the next day, but Victor’s base score was higher in the free skate, so it would be difficult to overtake him.

Victor stood up from his seat in the stands and waved up at the crowd, radiating his thousand-megawatt media smile. The audience cheered again, thousands of cameras winking and Russian flags waving in the stands.

Yuuri watched him for a moment, remembering the first time he’d noticed that the media smile was different from the one he’d given Yuuri.

But that smile, the one he’d thought was genuine—had that been fake too? 

 _I’m a great actor,_ Victor had said.

A chill ran down Yuuri’s spine. He said something to Celestino about being tired and stood up, weaving through the crowds to the athletes’ area. He changed out of his skates quickly and shouldered his gear bag, heading toward the back exit, wanting to avoid the cameras again if at all possible. He simply wasn’t in the mood to be dogged by reporters at the moment. 

Yuuri put his hood up, avoiding eye contact with anyone, and shouldered his way out the door. 

The second the door slammed behind him, however, he stopped in his tracks.

Across from him in the dark alley, there were four large, hulking men blocking his path, dressed in dark colors and ski masks. It was like something out of a bad action flick. 

Yuuri stopped short, his adrenaline surging. The sun had faded while he was in the arena, and the alleyway was dark and deserted. Only seconds ago he’d been amid thousands of people, distracted by Victor’s performance, full of anger at his own failures, and now...

 _Don’t go anywhere alone,_ Victor had said.

How had he known?

“What do you want?” Yuuri asked, trying to keep his voice even. 

The men said nothing, simply walking toward him slowly.

The door behind him opened and closed. 

“Thank god, please help—” Yuuri turned to say, but the man who exited just let the door close and leaned against it, smirking.

It was the reporter from yesterday, but he was...different. His eyes were the same flat, emotionless black, but he was wearing a trim blue suit this time, his hair impeccably styled, his teeth sharp and white. He was beautiful, yet terrifying. 

“Katsuki Yuuri, we meet at last. Well, actually, we’ve met before, you just didn’t realize it.” 

“Who are you? What do you want?” Yuuri demanded.

“Two very good questions,” the man said, pushing off the door and sauntering toward him lazily. “I will not answer the first, but the second, I should think, is obvious.” 

Two of the large men took out guns, one of them a crowbar, the other a baseball bat, and they all started circling, surrounding him. 

Yuuri’s heart pounded against his chest, the surreality of the situation making everything seem hyper-sharp. 

“I haven’t got any money on me,” Yuuri said. “I don’t—” 

The dark-haired man barked out a laugh. “I don’t want _money_ ,” he sneered. “I want _you_.” 

Yuuri backed up slowly, his hand eventually brushing against the door, but there was no handle on the outside; it was completely smooth.

 _Fuck._  

“Don’t worry, Yuuri,” the man said, stepping closer. “You’ll be fine. You won’t be able to skate anymore, but you’ll live. I’ll be sure of that.” 

Yuuri felt a cold trickle of fear prickle his neck. 

“So, what, you’re going to break my kneecaps? Isn’t that a bit...cliche?” Yuuri tried to joke, as he glanced over his shoulder to see where the alley led in the other direction, but it was a dead end by some garbage bins. The only exit was the mouth of the alley, which was currently being blocked. He was completely, utterly trapped. 

The man shrugged. “I suppose it is, but it’s an effective way of taking a skater out of commission.” 

 _Stall. Hopefully someone else will come out the door_. “What’s in it for you?” 

The man smiled, his whitened teeth glittering. “That’s not something you need to know right now. But I assure you, you’ll find out.” 

The two men closest to Yuuri started walking closer, and Yuuri tensed. He had no chance against five men who all outweighed him, but he still clenched his fists, preparing to fight. 

When they were only steps away from him, door to the arena slammed open.

When Yuuri whipped around to look at the new arrival, his jaw dropping. “Victor?” 

Victor took in the scene quickly, eyes darting around as he walked out in quick strides, putting himself between the dark-haired man and Yuuri. “Yuuri, run.” 

The man rolled his eyes. “You really think that’s going to work? You’re so stupid. Pretty, but stupid.” 

Victor clenched his jaw. “Stop it, Alex.”

“Alex?” Yuuri gasped, a pit forming in his stomach.

Victor said nothing, his lips trembling, hands clenched into fists. His eyes were full of something Yuuri had never seen in them before: utter, consuming hatred. 

Yuuri looked at the man again. He was smirking, all clean lines and pressed suit—and suddenly, Yuuri knew.

It was Alex. _The_ Alex.

Just as quickly, he realized that Victor had been telling the truth about him. The abuse, the manipulation—it had all been real, not a ploy to make Yuuri fall in love with him. No matter what else had happened between them, that hadn’t been a lie. 

This was the man who had broken Victor, who had damaged him deeply and irreparably when he was young and vulnerable and innocent. 

There was a roaring in his ears, and Yuuri was seeing red. He didn’t even know he was doing it before he had crossed the two steps between himself and Alex, pulling his arm back and punching him square in the nose as hard as he could. It made a sickening crunching sound, lighting Yuuri’s knuckles up with pain at the same time. 

Two of the large men were on Yuuri in less than a second, one of them socking Yuuri so hard in the solar plexus that he saw stars, the other holding his arms behind him in a vice-like grip.

“дерьмо,” Alex swore, hand to his nose. “You fuckers have _one job_.”

“Sorry boss, he just—he didn’t look like the type—” The man holding Yuuri’s arms stuttered. 

“Shut up,” Alex snarled, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and holding it to his nose. Yuuri felt a sort of sick satisfaction when it came away red.

“Let Yuuri go. Do what you want with me, but let him go.” Victor’s eyes were steel-grey, his fists still trembling infinitesimally.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because the one you want is me, not him.”

“Victor, _no_ —” Yuuri started to protest, but the hulking man punched him in the stomach again. Yuuri doubled over, his vision swimming, gasping for breath. 

“ _Stop it_ ,” Victor demanded. 

“Or what?” Alex countered.

They stared at each other for a long second, Alex lifting his eyebrows in a challenge. 

Then, like a snake shifting out of his skin, Victor’s entire demeanor changed. His posture softened as he took a couple of steps forward, sauntering toward Alex. 

“If you let him go, maybe we can start again,” he said, his tone seductive. 

Alex’s eyes narrowed, and Yuuri felt a wave of revulsion, watching with disbelief. 

Victor slid a hand up Alex’s chest, leaning in. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? For us to be together again?”

Alex looked dubious, but he stepped closer all the same. “Why the change of heart?”

Victor shrugged. “Maybe I had a lot of time to think about what I want over the past two months.”  

“What about the pig?” Alex asked, voice silky-soft, and Yuuri felt another wave of nausea. 

“He means nothing to me,” Victor said easily. “It was just a dalliance, something to pass the time. But he’s not worth it for either of us. You might as well let him leave.”

Alex still seemed skeptical. “You said you were looking forward to seeing him again. That interview.”

Victor shrugged again. “It was just for the sponsors, extending the drama. That’s all.” 

Alex glanced at Yuuri. “He _is_ pretty pathetic. I don’t know why you ever wanted him, even as a distraction.” 

Yuuri hoped that his revulsion showed through in his expression, but he didn’t risk saying anything again. 

 _Think. Just think. There has to be a way out of this._  

“Let him go, and we can go talk somewhere.” Victor bit his bottom lip. “Maybe more.” 

Alex said something in Russian, and Victor replied, also in Russian.

“Ask him,” Victor said, switching to English, presumably for Yuuri’s benefit. 

“It’s in his best interest to lie.”

“Do it,” Victor insisted.

Alex gave Victor a long look, then walked over to Yuuri and pulled his face up by the chin, holding him so tightly that it hurt. 

“Get away from me,” Yuuri snarled, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle his face out of Alex’s grip.

“Are you and Victor reconciled?” Alex asked. 

Yuuri stared at him, seething with anger and disgust.

“Answer him,” Victor urged. 

“What does that have to do with—” Yuuri started.

“Just answer the fucking question,” the man holding his arms said, “or you get another fist in the stomach.” 

Yuuri almost didn’t answer just to be defiant...but then he caught Victor’s eyes, and something about the pleading look in them made him answer.

“No,” Yuuri said, through clenched teeth. “We are definitely not back together.”

“See?” Victor’s face was an inscrutable mask again, his body language nonchalant. 

Alex’s mouth twisted, but he relaxed his grip on Yuuri’s jaw.

He rubbed his own chin, looking back and forth between Victor and Yuuri.

“Prove it to me,” Alex said eventually.

Victor tensed. “What?” 

Alex took the crowbar from the nearest goon and held it out to Victor. “If he means nothing to you, then you do it.”

Victor blinked at him. “What’s the point?” 

Alex shrugged easily. “Like I said, it’s proof that you don’t care about him.” 

Victor made no move to take the crowbar, so Alex took Victor’s hand and placed it in his palm. Victor's jaw clenched. 

“I’m waiting,” Alex prompted, crossing his arms. 

Victor stayed perfectly still, his eyes focused on Alex.

“The ISU will find out. I could be banned from the sport.” 

“Now you’re just stalling,” Alex retorted. “You know I’ll cover it up, make sure it never comes back to you.” 

Yuuri closed his eyes. He had no idea what would happen next. Even if Victor refused to hurt him, one of the men surely would beat him to pieces, and who knows whether he would ever be able to even walk again. He doubted he would make it out alive, despite Alex’s assurances.

He blinked his eyes open and looked up at Victor, drinking the sight of him in. Victor was still so beautiful, despite how pale and thin he was; his hair glinting in the low light of the street lamps, his slim but muscular body set off by his warmups. At least he got to see him, one last time, if this was going to be the end. 

He met Victor’s eyes, and Victor’s lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but he stopped himself. Still, his mask fell for just a moment, a fraction of a second, like during his short program. Yuuri saw a flicker of fear in his eyes, and pain, and...what he had once thought to be love.

And somehow—he wasn’t sure how—Yuuri knew in that moment that Victor would never hurt him. No matter what Alex did to him, to them, Victor would never do what Alex was asking.

“Ah, darling,” Alex sneered, his face twisting into an ugly smile. “You’re so delightfully transparent.” 

Just as he said it, sirens sounded from the street. 

Exhaling deeply, Victor threw the crowbar on the ground. “I could say the same to you, _darling_.” 

Alex snapped to look at the mouth of the alley, but it was too late; within seconds, the entire alley was filled with police cars, blocking their exit. At the same time, the door to the arena burst open and several policemen streamed out, shouting at the men to drop their weapons.

Alex took a gun out from the back of his pants, but he was disarmed almost immediately by two officers coming the from the opposite direction who slammed him up against the wall. 

The man who was holding Yuuri dropped him and started sprinting toward the alley exit, but two other cops brought him down easily before he could escape. Yuuri collapsed to the ground, his legs no longer capable of holding him up.

Victor rushed over to Yuuri immediately, kneeling on the pavement. “Yuuri, are you alright? Are you hurt?” He reached out as if he wanted to touch Yuuri, but immediately snatched his hand back. 

“I’ve been better,” Yuuri said, clutching his stomach. “But it was worth it.”

Victor’s eyes darted all over him. “An ambulance will be here any second.”

Yuuri licked his lips. “The cops. You knew they were coming?”

Victor nodded. “I had to distract him long enough for them to arrive.” He bit his bottom lip. “I can’t believe you really punched him."

Yuuri swallowed, his throat working. “What he did to you, I...I wanted to do more than punch him.”

Victor pressed his lips together, nodding, his eyes glistening, and Yuuri thought he saw that glimmer of love in them again. Yuuri wished—he wished _so_ badly—that he could believe it was really there.

Paramedics streamed into the alley. “Over here,” Victor called out. He stood, moving to the side so that they could do their work.

“ _Where are you hurt?_ ” the first paramedic asked him, as another one started taking his pulse. 

“ _I was punched in the stomach twice, but otherwise I’m okay_ ,” Yuuri said.

The paramedic nodded, starting to feel his abdomen. “ _Do you think you have internal bleeding?_ ” 

“ _I don’t know. I don’t think so?_ ” Yuuri frowned. 

“Mama,” he heard Victor say. “You don’t need to be here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this,” a familiar woman’s voice replied.

Yuuri snapped up to look, and sure enough, Inessa was standing by the door.

She glided out into the alley through the chaos, regal and beautiful, like a maiden walking barefoot and fearless through a gruesome battlefield.

Alex, who was being handcuffed, snarled something at her in Russian, but Inessa’s expression didn’t change. She stepped forward until she was only inches from him, her face a mask of fury. Yuuri shivered, glad that he’d never been on the receiving end of that look. 

“Alexei,” she said quietly. “Did you really think I wouldn’t get you in the end?” 

Alex spat at her feet. “Rot in hell,” he sneered.

Her red lips tilted slowly up into a terrifying grin. “I think you’ll be the one spending the rest of his life in hell,” she said. She lifted her chin at the police officers, and they dragged him down the alley toward a police car. 

“ _Do you want to go to the hospital_?” the paramedic asked Yuuri. “ _You don’t seem to have any lasting injuries, but we can take you in to be sure. We cleaned and bandaged your hand, it doesn’t seem to be broken, just a small contusion.”_

Yuuri shook his head. The pain in his stomach had already receded, and was only a dull ache. “ _No. I don’t think I need to go to the hospital. I’m fine_.”

The paramedic nodded. “ _Okay. You’ll probably be a bit sore tomorrow, but you can still compete. Good luck, Mr. Katsuki. We are all rooting for you_.” He smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Yuuri nodded, still a bit dazed.

“ _Here, I’ll help you up_.” 

Yuuri looked down, realizing he was still on the ground. He let the paramedic help him to stand, his legs wobbling a bit. He leaned against the wall to stabilize himself, hoping the dizziness would pass soon.

A policeman came up to him, asking him for his statement, and Yuuri recounted what had happened as best he could. 

“ _Okay, we might have to have you come down to give an official statement, but it will wait until after your competition_.” 

“ _Alright, thank you, officer_.”

The officer clapped Yuuri on the shoulder. “ _Good on you for getting a punch in, by the way. Not everyone would have had the guts_.”

“ _Uh, thanks_?” Yuuri said, not sure how else to respond. 

The officer tilted his head. “ _Do you not know who he is_?” 

“ _Alex…something. He used to be a gymnast, that’s all I know_.” 

The officer raised his eyebrows, looking over his shoulder, before leaning in conspiratorially. “ _Alexei Volkov is a top hit man for the Bratva. Ever since he was released from prison, he’s been on Interpol’s top most wanted list_.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Yuuri said, feeling faint.

The officer smiled. “ _You’re free to go. I’ll call you if we need more information_.”

Yuuri nodded. He leaned down to pick up his gear bag, holding his stomach, when he saw Inessa across the alley, talking to a policeman. 

Their eyes met for a moment, and she tilted her head, looking him up and down, before she nodded at him. She turned back to the officer, following him down the alley toward the street. 

Yuuri frowned, not sure what to make of the exchange. He glanced around, and realized, with bitter disappointment, that Victor was gone.

Phichit appeared in front of him. “Yuuri, oh my god, are you okay?” 

“Phich,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. “How did you know where I was?” 

“Everyone in the arena knows something is going on, there’s cops everywhere. I begged them for twenty minutes to let me through the barricade, they didn’t believe I knew you. What the fuck happened?” 

Yuuri pinched his nose, feeling a massive headache coming on. “Alex showed up.” 

Phichit looked confused. “Alex?”

“Victor’s abusive ex. He was trying to...he was going to hurt me. Victor stopped him." 

Phichit gaped at him. “What?” 

“Can we get a cab back to the hotel? I’ll explain.” He felt woozy; the adrenalin crash was finally hitting him. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course, let’s go.” 

Phichit picked up his gear bag from the ground, and slung an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, letting Yuuri lean on him as they started walking toward the mouth of the alley.

As they got past the police tape, thousands of light bulbs flashed, reporters shouting questions at them from all sides. Yuuri just ducked his head, and Phichit led him toward a cab.

“Okay, now tell me what happened, from the second you left the kiss and cry,” Phichit said, once the cab swept them away.

Yuuri leaned his head against the window, watching the city rush by. “I was disappointed with my score in the short,” he began, “so I was trying to leave the arena without being noticed.”

 

 

* * *

When they got back to their room, Yuuri sat down gingerly, his stomach still feeling a bit sore.

Phichit started pacing back and forth, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re making me dizzy, stop it,” Yuuri said.

Phichit stopped abruptly and sat down on the bed next to him, but his eyes were still darting around.

Yuuri sighed. “Out with it.” 

“You’ve just been through an ordeal, Yuuri, I don’t—“ 

“I don’t care. Something’s bothering you, just tell me.”

Phichit bit his lower lip, contemplating for a second, then he nodded. “There’s something I think you should know about. Considering what just happened.” 

“Okay,” Yuuri said slowly. 

“Remember how you got that letter from Victor?” 

Yuuri felt his chest tighten. “Yes?”

Phichit sighed. “I know you told me to get rid of it, but...I couldn’t. I saved it, and all the letters after. It just seemed like, if he wrote so many, there had to be a reason.”

Yuuri’s heart started to pick up. “There were more?” 

Phichit pressed his lips together, then got up and walked over to his suitcase. As Yuuri watched, he unzipped an inner pocket, pulling out dozens of white envelopes. 

He walked over slowly and pressed them into Yuuri’s hands.

Yuuri shuffled through them: they were all addressed to Yuuri in the same looping script. The return address was Victor’s.

Yuuri clutched them to his chest, his eyes starting to blur with tears. “Why did you bring these?” 

“I thought after you saw him you might...I don’t know. Have a change of heart.”

Yuuri felt like he’d been punched in the stomach for a third time, his breaths shuddering. “Did you...did you read them?” he choked out.

Phichit shook his head. “No, of course not.” 

Yuuri stared down at the letters, words completely escaping him. Unbidden, the image of Victor’s face in the alley, the momentary warmth in his eyes, came to his mind. 

Phichit licked his lips. “I’ll, uh. I’ll leave you alone for a bit.” He squeezed Yuuri’s arm reassuringly.

Yuuri turned to look at him, a tear escaping down his cheek. Phichit gave him a faint smile before he turned and walked out the door.

As soon as he heard the door click, Yuuri spread the letters out on the bed, heart pounding.

He shouldn’t do this. Especially not the day before the free skate, when he had to finish what he had started. 

He stared at the letters, his heart in his throat.

Slowly, he chose one at random, and opened it.

  

_March 2_

_Yuuri,_

_I walked Makka through the park today. We went by that spot where we had the snowball fight. Do you remember?_ _You were so beautiful that day, your cheeks and lips pink from the cold._  

_Then when you fell on top of me...I thought you were going to kiss me. My heart was about to explode. I wanted you so badly, but I didn’t want to push you too far too fast._

_Without you here, everything feels colder._

_I miss you so much._  

— _Love, Victor_

 

The looping script was definitely Victor’s. Yuuri stared at the penultimate word for a long time, before he picked up another letter. This one had lots of smears on it, as if tears had fallen on the page as he wrote.

 

_February 28_

_It’s three in the morning._  

 _I woke up and reached over to your side of the bed, expecting you to be there, and you aren’t. I don’t think I’ll ever stop looking for you, reaching for you._  

 _I can’t believe I have lost you, maybe forever. I was alive for the few months I had you in my life, and now…I don’t know what to do._  

_Even if I never get to touch you again, even if I never get to hold you again, kiss you again, wake up next to you again, I will love you until my dying day._

— _Victor._

 

Yuuri stared at the tear stains, and picked up another letter, then another. Time passed, but he wasn’t sure how much. Nothing mattered but the words on the pages.

 

 _March 9_  

_I look at the pictures of you online every day, even though it hurts to see your face, to know that your pain is because of me. Every day that passes, I miss you more, not less._

_It’s unbearable, but at least I can see you this way. See that you’re alright._

_I’m glad Phichit is taking care of you, even though I can’t._  

— _Victor_

 

_February 26_

_I’m sitting at a cafe, and a song just came on the speakers. It’s like a knife to the heart, any song about love. Any song about loneliness, about heartbreak. I can’t bear it._

_No matter what happens for the rest of my life, I’ll never forget the joy you gave me. I wish I could bring you joy again._  

— _Victor_

 

_March 6_

_I love you. I wish I could tell you that one more time. I love you so much Yuuri. It was never a lie. I’m so sorry._  

— _Victor_

 

_March 13_

_I just tried to get on a plane to see you. I thought I could wear a hat and sneak onto a plane, but it didn’t work. The security guards made me take off my disguise, and I was spotted. If I’d gone to Detroit, Alex might have set his plan in motion, and I couldn’t take that chance._

_I don’t know what to do._

 

Alex? What did Alex have to do with this? Heart pounding in his ears, Yuuri opened the rest of the letters, finding the oldest one.

 

_February 22_

_Yuuri,_

_You’ve disconnected your number, and Phichit isn’t replying to my texts. I don’t know how else to contact you._  

 _Alex forced me to break up with you. He told me if I didn’t do it, that he would hurt you so badly that you would never skate again._  

 _I know that doesn’t make it right. I know you told me never to lie to you. But I was scared that if I told you the truth, he would know. I couldn’t take the chance that he’d hurt you, and I was just trying to buy us time. I was going to explain everything after the free skate, but I should have realized that you’d be gone before I could get to you. I never thought you wouldn’t be on the podium, that you’d leave before the medal ceremony._  

 _I wish there had been another way. I tried, I_ _so hard_ _to think of another solution. But I had to make you break up with me, because I wasn’t strong enough to do it myself. I know that was cruel. I don’t know if I can ever make it right._  

_I didn’t think you’d believe me at first, but you did. You thought that I never loved you, and that hurt most of all._

_Now I see that that was his plan all along. That he knew I’d sacrifice my own happiness for you, and that I’d make it so you’d never forgive me. I can’t believe I fell for it. I was unbelievably foolish._  

 _I just want you to know that didn’t cheat on you. I would never do that to you. I hope you know that, deep in your heart._  

_And now, I might never get to tell you I love you again._

_But I do. I love you Yuuri. I love you more than_ _anything_ _. I can’t bear the fact that I caused you so much pain. I want to kiss it all away, tell you what we had was real._

— _Victor._

 

Yuuri clutched his chest. Was it possible?

He thought back to when Inessa had come to see him, when she’d seen the picture of the man kissing Victor, how her eyes had widened in recognition…knowing now what Alex looked like, it could have been him in the photo. The same build, same dark hair. 

If Victor was telling the truth, then it explained why Alex had tried to hurt him, why he’d cornered him, if he thought he and Victor were back together. 

Yuuri opened all the letters and scanned the dates until he found the final one. 

 

 _March 21_  

 _So many times in the past month, I thought about quitting figure skating for good. I don’t care about winning medals anymore. The only thing I care about is you._  

_But the only way I can see you again, even for a short time, is to go to Worlds. So that’s what I’m going to do._

_I will love you until my dying day._

— _Love, Victor._

 

Tears were trickling down Yuuri’s face, plopping down onto the paper.

Victor had written letter after letter, knowing he’d probably never get a reply, not even knowing whether Yuuri received them. Just to say the things he wanted to say, when Yuuri had shut him out completely.

Yuuri put the letter down, hugging his knees to his chin, and looked out the window at the glowing city, the lights bright against dark clouds.

He had a strong impulse to find Victor immediately, to tell him that he still loved him. He wanted to hold Victor in his arms again, to be kissed by him again.

And yet. 

 _He means nothing to me_ , Victor had said that day to Alex, his voice cold.

 _I will love you until my dying day_ , he’d written.

 _I don’t love you, I never did_ , he’d said in Taipei.

 _I will never hurt you_ , his eyes had said in the alley.

What was the truth? 

Yuuri stared out at the city, unblinking, torn, as rain started to pelt the windows. 

He could go and find Victor, but he was afraid. He was afraid of daring to hope that Victor did still love him. 

He sat there for a long time, unable to decide what to do.

Eventually, eyes drooping, he put the letters aside and curled up on the top of the covers, falling into a fitful sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING for threats of violence and references to abuse.
> 
> I changed my twitter to [victuuriplease](https://twitter.com/victuuriplease?lang=en) to match my tumblr handle.
> 
> Come chat with me on [tumblr](http://victuuriplease.tumblr.com/)!


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